


Orphan Girl

by NerdGirl07



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Orphanage, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Orphanage AU, Sad with a Happy Ending, orphan Anne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdGirl07/pseuds/NerdGirl07
Summary: At times she let herself think of them, those two short years and the happiness that had accompanied them, but those times were only ever at night, when no one could hear her cry. During the day she worked, minute after minute, hour after hour. There was never a second to dawdle, Anne acknowledged, not when you lived a life of servitude. Such was life in St Alban's Orphanage.Such was the life of an orphan girl.*****************************************************************************************************************************In a world where the Cuthbert's died soon after taking Anne in, she was sent back to the orphanage.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 16
Kudos: 172





	Orphan Girl

The pale redhead scrubbed the floor viciously, feeling too numb to cry as usual. It was obvious she was an orphan, not just because of the walls that imprisoned her. She was an orphan in the way that hopelessness curled her shoulders forward and hunger hollowed her cheeks. Food was never plentiful at the orphanage. There was never enough to go around, never enough to fill the dozens of growling bellies. There was only ever enough to keep them going. Just enough to keep them alive in their cycle of unending misery. 

Gone were the days when Anne Shirley could magic away her woes and think herself out of the orphanage. She no longer imagined herself a princess or a scientist or an adventurer. She concluded she was still a prisoner, she had not made that up at least, but she was done with her delusions of being rescued. She’d had one chance to get out.

She’d never have another. Of that she was certain.

Imagining had lost its spark when she’d been sent back here. It was hard to imagine yourself out of a hopeless situation, stupid to imagine yourself to be happy, when you had experienced true happiness and it had been ripped so cruelly away from you.

Now she spent her days in the orphanage where she’d grown up, a place she had thought she was safe from at last, right before she’d been sent back. There were times when she let herself think of them, those two short happy years and the people that had accompanied them, but those times were only ever late at night when she could cry as her heart broke again and again, without anybody hearing her pitiful sobs.

Marilla and Matthew her beloved parents, Jerry who’d been like a brother, the beautiful dimpled face of a girl who she’d forever think of as her bosom friend. The schoolhouse and a green dress with puffed sleeves and disaster after disaster that ended with a hug from Marilla and a small trinket gifted to her from Matthew. She still had those, the little trinkets, hidden under a loose floorboard under her bed. Even a boy with black curls, who’d she hated and grown to love right before she’d been ripped away. If only she’d been a few years older when Marilla and Matthew passed. Gilbert would’ve married her; she knew he would have, to save her from this place. But she’d been too young and now he and Diana and all her other friends were nothing but memories. Unlike Marilla and Matthew they weren’t dead, but they might as well be. They were little more than ghosts now. She would never see them again, that was for sure. Avonlea and it’s love and wonder and charm was nothing more than memories now, and sometimes Anne was convinced she’d dreamed them. But no, they were real memories and that made it so much worse. Memories hurt, Anne had discovered, and yet she was afraid of forgetting because then she would really have nothing left but regrets. Regrets hurt differently than memories. Memories stung, were sharp because they had been so sweet. Regrets were hollow, everything that could have been. Everything she could have had and now never would. 

Regrets were also useless, Anne reminded herself as she continued to scrub. Regrets were if only’s and if only’s never got her anything but more heartbreak. If only someone else had taken her in after the Cuthbert’s had died. If only they hadn’t died in the first place.

She was doubly an orphan now, she reflected with grim mirth, twice the reason for her to be here. First her birth parents had died and then her adoptive ones. Maybe she was the problem. She was a curse, the matron said so anyway.

Sometimes in the dark she whispered her old name to herself. Anne Shirley Cuthbert. She liked that girl, the girl from green gables, far more than she liked the girl she was before and the girl she was now: Anne Shirley of the orphanage. 

The return to this place from her very own fairytale had succeeded in breaking her, something the orphanage had never managed to do before. But that was before she’d been happy. Now she kept her head down and her mouth shut. She didn’t read, or sing, or write, or chatter. Life was easier here this way. She got struck less by the matrons, and received less punishment chores. When she was pimped out into service she was hated less, and a hard worker. Sometimes they fed her better than the orphanage, even if they were a bit more heavy handed. She was always either being hit or going hungry. When she was unlucky it was both.

This was her life now. It was better, she thought, to be cold and practical, easier to try and harden herself beyond caring than it was to live in dreams and the past. She was bigger now at least, got picked on less. She knew how to read and write and figure too, which meant that the matron let her teach the little ones occasionally. She liked that. 

She was eleven when she’d gone to green gables, thirteen when she returned to the orphanage, and fifteen now. She’d spoken to the matron, who said she’d officially hire her as a nursemaid and teacher when she turned seventeen. She’d wither away and die here, but at least she’d have a roof over her head and food on the table, scant, bland and flavourless as it may be. After all, she figured, things couldn’t really get any worse. This was her own personal hell she was already trapped in. It made sense she’d never be able to leave. 

The bell tolled that signalled the end of the chore shift and Anne followed one of the matrons and a few of the other kids as she emptied her washpail and handed it off to one of the next kids, who’d refill it and scrub some other part of the vast orphanage. 

Automatically, still with her head ducked, she quickly made her way to the nursery. She exchanged a terse nod with the girl who looked after the little ones for the first half of the day. The girl had dark hair a black eyes. At one point she had tormented Anne but that was before. They got on well now, though they hardly ever spoke a word to each other. They were both downtrodden, depressed, and exhausted. They had no fight left in them, and no energy left to do anything but the endless, monotonous loop of assigned tasks, day after day after day. Such was life in Saint Albans orphanage. 

Such was the life of an orphan girl. 

Anne accepted the baby the dark haired girl passed her as she hurried out the door to her next task. There was never a second to dawdle, Anne acknowledged, not when you lived a life of servitude. There was always something more to do.

The baby fussed in her arms, dressed in threadbare baby clothes. She felt a pang when she remembered the puffed sleeved dress that had once been hers. This baby would never wear anything so fine or pretty. No, it would be endless worn out hand me downs for the rest of it’s life. Her heart hurt even more when she surveyed the room full of babies that would never know love or affection, who’d never make it out of the orphanage except as workhands. It would be a miracle if even one of them ever got adopted into a loving home. Some of them would die before they even had a chance to grow up, either from sickness or hunger or exhaustion. If they ended up like her they might one day die of a broken heart.

She bounced the little girl in her arms. “Shh,” she hushed her, “it’s all right. I’ve got you.”

She propped the baby on her hip as she quickly washed her hands and stuck a finger in the baby’s mouth for her to chew on. There were no rags or ice cubes to spare at the orphanage. Teething babies had their own fingers to bite, or their nursemaid’s, or nothing at all.

The little girl quickly fell asleep but as soon as Anne lowered her into a crib a pair of twins started squalling. She picked them up and started to sing, feeling a pang in her heart when she remembered the face of the french boy who had taught her the song. She used to be annoyed with his constant singing. Now she’d give anything to hear him sing again. The french words and the tune lost a certain magic when she sang them. Maybe it was because she didn’t have the heart anymore.

“Au claire de la lune, mon ami pierrot, prête moi ta plume pour écrire un mot…”

This was how she would spend her afternoon, hushing babies along with three other girls. They were all younger than her, she’d guess between the ages of eight and twelve. The youngest girl, a pretty thing with green eyes and brown curls seemed to be having trouble. Everyone grew up working in the orphanage but your workload got a lot heavier as soon as you passed age seven. The little girl was probably new to this. Anne knew that she was also in charge of looking after the other little girls as well as the babies. That’s why the older teenagers like her were hardly ever paired up for chores. It made life easier for the matrons when an older teenager could be trusted to look after a few extra kids.

“What does that song mean?” One of the girls asked. She wasn’t the youngest, but probably wasn’t any more than ten, with chocolate brown eyes and blonde hair. Anne wanted to cry just looking at her. She still had the gleam of hope in her eyes, the same hope Anne had held for years. She prayed the orphanage wouldn’t beat it out of the girl, the way it had to her. Anne gently reached out a hand and ruffled the girl’s hair. The blonde leaned into the touch and once again Anne was painfully reminded of her younger self. No one had ever shown her kindness at the orphanage when she was younger, and she was determined to lend some to the younger children now.

“It’s a french song.” She told the girl, doing her best to smile. That small stretch of lips was a monumental effort. All three of them were holding on to her every word. Despite the lack of food at the orphanage their cheeks were still round with childhood. “My friend taught it to me years ago.”

“How do you remember it?” The littlest girl asked. 

“He sang a lot,” she told them, a wistful sadness in her voice, “and he sang so freely. It was impossible to forget anything he sang. Especially when he taught me french.”

“So what does it mean?” The eldest little girl asked. She had red hair like Anne’s, but her’s curled beautifully. She looked around twelve or thirteen. A bruise stood out on her cheekbone and Anne’s heart clenched painfully again at the thought of her younger self. 

“It’s a lullaby.” She told them, “though I think that’s obvious. It’s about the moon, asking to borrow a pen from someone so they can write a love letter. It’s sort of strange if you think about it but it’s a lovely lullaby.”

“Your singing voice is so lovely. Will you teach us?” The brown haired girl wondered.

“Sure.” She smiled, “I’m Anne by the way.”

She stuck out a hand and each little girl shook it solemnly as they introduced themselves. The littlest girl was called Miriam, the blonde was Delia, and the redhead was Elise. 

Anne rocked babies and taught the girls to sing. For the first time since she’d left Avonlea she didn’t feel quite so alone. 

After that afternoon the three became her shadows, following her around during their limited free time. Normally Anne studied the schoolbooks she’d brought with her from Avonlea in the evenings, but Miriam and Elise had pestered her to teach them to read, and Delia and Miriam managed to talk her into telling them bedtime stories in the short time before lights out.

The smallest bit of imagination came back to her then, mixing with her memories. Miriam liked the stories of the Kingdom of Avonlea best, of wise King Matthew and kind Duchess Marilla, of brave princess Diana and the dark haired, dashing Prince Gilbert. Delia abhorred the villainous Billy, but loved the sly sorceress Josie. Elise seemed to feel a kinship with the sweet fairies Ruby and Cole, and their formidable (if slightly eccentric) mentor, aunt Jo. Miriam loved all the characters, but liked the Prince the best, and had a fondness for the bard Jerry.

Telling her stories, based on Avonlea made Anne want to cry, and she often did as soon as the lights went out, waking the next morning with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. 

Anne found herself quickly coming to love her three girls, it scared her but at the same time it didn’t. After all they’d never get out of the orphanage. Not for good anyway.

Life in the orphanage passed slowly, and at the same time it didn’t. Most of the time everything was the same, each day exactly the same as the one before. It made Anne feel as if she was just going through the same motions, living one long day or the same day over and over.

Elise was taken into service, and Anne’s heart broke a little bit more. That was ok though, she was already living with a shattered heart. One more crack didn’t make much of a difference. Anne clutched her other girls a little bit tighter and waited anxiously for Elise to return. She didn’t have to wait long. Before two weeks had passed Elise was back, a little skinnier, a little more bruised and a lot more broken. Anne hugged her close and helped her with her chores, terrified of the day she’d be sent away again.

In the dining hall Anne sat next to a boy with sandy blond hair and blue eyes, named Rafael. She knew hardly anything about him but he was the closest thing she had to a friend at the orphanage. He was sixteen, a year older than her. He told her he had a job on the docks lined up for when he aged out of the orphanage and said he'd have a house by the time she turned sixteen.

He asked if when she turned sixteen, she’d marry him.

Anne said yes.

Rafael was dependable. He was hardworking, and he was kind. It didn’t matter than Anne knew she would never love him. He’d given her a chance to escape and she’d take it.

Besides, she’d given up her fanciful dreams of love a long time ago. True love was a fairytale, just like Avonlea. So were her hopes to go to college, and to avoid marriage altogether. Anne lived in the real world now. Love didn’t work that way here.

She was grateful too. Rafael had been here nearly as long as she had. She knew it was unlikely he’d ever want kids of his own. However, like her, he had a few boys he looked after, his own little Miriam’s, Elise’s and Delia’s. She doubted he’d be against taking in a few little ones from the orphanage if they ever had enough money.

For a while that was her life. She did her chores, kept her head down, chatted with Rafael and looked after her girls. She tried her best to mend her broken heart. Remembering Avonlea still hurt, but it was better than forgetting. 

She’d never forgive herself if she forgot a single moment of her life in Avonlea. 

One cold night in mid October the head matron called all the children fourteen and older into the front hall to address them.

“We have a school group coming to help out tomorrow.” She informed them. Anne and Rafael shared an exasperated look. Rafael rolled his eyes and a collective sigh went up from the rest of the assembled orphans. It had become a common occurrence as of late, groups of schoolchildren coming on class trips to ‘help out’ at the orphanage for charity work. Anne and the rest of the orphanage kids hated them. The big city schoolkids and small town sweethearts weren’t used to the amount and vigour of chores that the orphans were. Some of the richer ones didn’t even know how to do chores properly in the first place. Usually school groups ended up as a monumental headache for the orphans who’d be paired up with one for the day. The last time they’d had a school group Anne had been stuck babysitting a girl who was abysmally rude, and had no idea how to do chores properly. As such she’d spent the day being insulted, doing twice her usual amount of chores and ended up late to dinner since the rules at the orphanage said she had to finish chores before she got to eat. 

“You know the drill.” The matron sighed “Report here after breakfast and we’ll pair you up. You may go.”

The group broke up, the orphans grumbling. 

“I hate school groups.” Rafael grumbled to Anne, “it’s such a waste!”

Anne knew what he meant. A lot of the boys outdoor chores didn’t happen when they had school groups visit, instead they were shunted to easier indoor work. 

“I know!” Anne burst out, her passion that had lain dormant for so long making an appearance, “I spend enough time babysitting. I don’t need an extra incompetent teenager to look after too, and I’d rather not spend the day being pitied or insulted.”

“I know.” Rafael muttered darkly. “Hopefully they’ll be farm kids. They’re at least better than those city idiots.”

“With our luck? I doubt it.” Anne muttered darkly. Farm kids were better than city kids as a general rule. They usually knew how to do chores; they just weren’t as quick or as efficient as the orphans who’d been working all day everyday their entire lives.

“Well,” Rafael sighed, “best turn in early I suppose. I’ll be less likely to lose my patience if I’m not tired.”

“I’d better go too.” Anne agreed, “I promised I’d tuck Miriam in, and Delia wanted a bedtime story.”

They said their goodnights and went their separate ways. The girls dormitory was upstairs above the kitchen, but the boy’s was on the first floor tucked around one of the many corners.

“Why did the matron call you all down there?” Delia asked without preamble when Anne returned to the dorm. Delia had nearly inexhaustible curiosity, while Miriam had near unending energy, and Elise, bless her, had nearly inexhaustible patience.

“There’s a school group coming tomorrow.”

Miriam squealed excitedly. “I love school groups!”

That was the one upside of the visiting school groups: all the younger kids loved them. Being in the orphanage meant they didn’t often get a chance to meet new people, so it was fun for them when they got to meet groups of schoolchildren.

“Will you tell us the rest of the story?” Delia asked, “We were just getting to the good part.”

“Please Anne?” Even Elise wanted a story that night, which made Anne worried. Elise never asked for a story unless she wanted to get her mind off something.

Miriam was bouncing on her bed, even a long day of chores couldn't stop her energy. Anne helped her button up her nightgown and tucked her into bed pulling the covers tightly up to the little girl’s chin. She tucked Delia in and kissed them each on the head before taking a seat on Elise’s bed and gently stroking the girl’s forehead. 

“Where did I leave off yesterday?”

“Prince Gilbert and Princess Diana were just about to save Princess Cordelia!” Miriam cried.

“As the fair maiden and dashing prince raced to Princess Cordelia's side the evil wizard Philipson worked to stop them…”

By the time the matron gave the five minute warning before lights out, Miriam and Delia had fallen asleep, and princess Cordelia had been successfully rescued with help from Prince Gilbert and Princess Diana.

“Now darling,” Anne said smiling softly down at Elise, “do you want to tell me what’s the matter?”

“I don’t want to go back into service,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears, “I’m scared.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Another crack forged it’s way into Anne’s already shattered heart. She pulled Elise into her arms and never wanted to let her go. She was tired of seeing little kids forced to grow up far too quickly. She couldn’t even reassure her, because the truth was she wasn’t sure everything would be ok. Chances were it wouldn’t be.

She rocked Elise until the girl fell asleep, and crept over to her own bed before the matron turned down the lamps. It was hard for her to sleep that night, worried as she was about Elise and the coming visit from the school group.

The next morning dawned bright and cold. Anne had had breakfast duty the morning before, so she got to sleep past four until nearly five, but then she had to get up. She and six of the other older girls had to make sure the other 134 little girls were up and properly dressed to be in the dining hall by six for breakfast. Anne and two others went through the dormitory waking girls up while the others lit the lamps. Then they settled into a rhythm. The kids younger than five generally needed more help than the others, six year olds and older could buddy up, button each other's dresses and help their friends braid each other’s hair. The youngest kids, only a little older than toddlers, were a bit more helpless. Anne worked in tandem with two other older girls, Martha and Eliza. Martha shepherded the little ones into two lines where Anne and Eliza first helped all of them dress and then helped all of them braid their hair. Another older girl supervised while the little ones washed their hands and faces and cleaned their teeth. The other two patrolled the bigger kids breaking up arguments and tying threads onto the ends of braids. Once all the girls were washed and dressed everyone got to work making beds. Even older girls paired off for this, pulling sheets taught and tucking hospital corners. Anne and Martha helped each other with their beds and then helped some of the younger girls. Finally, everyone put any of their extra clothes in the trunks at the foot of their beds and lined up. Anne and the other older girls did a head count, two rows of 67, 134 girls up, washed, dressed and ready for breakfast, beds made and dormitory tidied. 

While Martha and three of the other girls led the kids to breakfast, Anne and Eliza stayed behind to finish getting ready. Her skirts weren’t particularly pretty but at least now they were floor length. They were annoying when she was holding laundry bins sure, but at least she looked more mature and distinguished. Anne quickly plaited Eliza’s hair and Eliza did the same to Anne’s. They shared the mirror while they coiled and pinned their hair. 

Looking at herself in the mirror, Anne decided she wasn’t so homely as she had been when she was younger. True, her skin was still pale but her red hair had darkened into a coppery colour and it looked very becoming all pinned up. Her blouse was worn out plain white calico, and her skirt patched dark blue gingham covered in a threadbare apron, but her figure had filled out. She looked grown up at least, more like a matron than one of the orphan children, even if she didn’t have the uniform.

“Your hair is so pretty.” Eliza complained as she pushed a final pin into her elegant twist. They didn’t have pretty clothes, Anne thought, but at least now they could have pretty hair. She herself had pinned hers into a sort of braided crown. 

“I like yours better.” She confessed, her stomach twisting as she remembered another girl with raven black hair, “It’s so shiny. I think my hair is just horrid.”

“I wish mine wasn’t so plain.” Eliza confessed as they hurried to the dining hall. “Besides, yours is such a lovely colour.”

“Thank you for saying so.”

Eliza smiled and left to sit with her beau. Anne knew he’d age out soon and he was planning to marry Eliza as soon as he found a place of his own. Eliza and her beau honestly seemed in love. However nearly all the older girls were engaged in some way, similar to Anne and Rafael, and Anne knew it was more likely because the boys wanted a wife more than an actual union of love. Her arrangement with Rafael was because he was offering her an escape, and Anne was sure a lot of the promised couples were the same. It was unlikely anyway that the boys would find a wife outside the orphanage. No girl from a respectable family would marry an orphan boy.

She accepted a bowl of oatmeal from one of the other girls, who’d made breakfast instead of looking after the little ones. That was her job tomorrow morning. Rafael was in his usual seat and her girls were across from him.

“Goodmorning,” Anne greeted as she smoothed her skirts and sat down.

“Goodmorning.” Rafael nodded curtly.

“What’s the matter?” Anne asked.

“Had to look after the kids today.” Rafael grumbled. “Little hellions.”

The morning situation was a bit different in the boys dormitory. Most of the older boys had their own morning chores to do and matrons and nursemaid’s helped the little boys get ready in the mornings, which was why the older girls like Anne were left with the responsibility of getting the little girls ready. However a few of the matrons had taken sick so Rafael and a few of the other boys had been tasked with getting the little boys ready, a task they were not accustomed too.

“I take it it didn't go well then.” Anne said dryly.

“It was a nightmare.” Rafael mumbled. 

Looking at some of the little boys Anne could see that things may have been a little chaotic that morning. A quick glance showed a few untucked shirts, undone buttons, and unwashed faces. Not a single one looked like their hair was brushed.

Anne laughed. “It looks like it.”

Rafael sighed. “How are you so good at that? The girls all look fine.” He grinned across the table at Elise, Delia, and Miriam, who grinned back in their straitened clothes and neat braids.

“You forget,” Anne said with a sigh of resignation, “I’ve had years of practice.”

The bell gently tolled and with a rustle of cloth everyone got to their feet, leaving their dishes on the trays and heading towards their various assignments. Rafael and Anne walked in the direction of the front hall to be paired up with the visitors, chatting idly.

“What’s your schedule today?” Rafael asked.

“I’ve got scrubbing, sewing and windows this morning, kitchen tomorrow. Laundry and nursery this afternoon and I’m supposed to help cook dinner, but Martha has to help in the infirmary and I think she wants to trade. What about you?”

“We can’t work outside because of those stupid school kids so it’s mostly general repairs and the like. Don’t worry,” he grinned, “we’ll help you with a few chores too.”

“Alright,” the matron sighed from the front, seemingly in a state of constant annoyance. Even still, she commanded attention and the low conversations of the orphans immediately hushed. The Matron’s coldness had made Anne hate her for years, “they’re slated to arrive in five minutes, any longer and you’ll start your chores. We can’t wait around for them all day.”

The orphans lined up, boys on the left and the girls on the right. There was a clear difference between the ones considered grown up and the ones still considered children. In Avonlea girls had to be at least sixteen before they could pin their hair up or wear skirts to the floor. At the orphanage fifteen was standard. That said the fourteen year olds were still in knee length dresses and Anne and the others were in corsets and full length skirts. There were more subtle distinctions between the boys clothes, overalls vs trousers and button downs.

The door clicked open and a group bustled in chatting and laughing. There was a clear difference between the schoolkids and the orphans. Anne and the other orphans clothes were dark and understated, worn to near threads. The schoolkids wore bright colours and their clothes were fairly new. 

The woman leading the group gave a direction to her class and Anne inhaled sharply.

Ms Stacy?

A quickly glance at the assembled schoolchildren showed her a number of familiar faces so fast it was dizzying. Diana, Ruby, Josie Pye, even Billy Andrews. A little further down and...yes, Gilbert Blythe was there too, looking even more unfairly handsome than he had when she’d left two years ago.

There was a divide between the Avonlea girl’s whose sixteenth birthdays had passed and those who hadn’t, Anne noticed. Diana and Jane were in floor length skirts. Josie, Ruby and Tillie weren’t, and Josie Pye looked right mad about it. Then again, Anne remembered, she was always mad about something.

The Avonlea youngsters surveyed the line of orphans with trepidation or disgust. There were divides between them less tangible than clothes, Anne observed. The orphans were pale and skinny from malnourishment, while the school kids were obviously well fed. The Avonlea kids chattered loudly and laughed freely. Conversation among the orphans was clipped and quiet, muttered or murmured, required out of politeness or necessity more than any true desire to speak. The Avonlea class grouped together, boys and girls moving amongst each other, while the beaten down orphans were slumped into their orderly rows, divided by gender. In short, the Avonlea schoolchildren were still just that: children. Children who were very obviously well cared for. While the orphans were young in years they were far older in spirit and the world had already crushed them. No one cared about orphans, and that fact was obvious just from looking at them.

Anne didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at seeing the Avonlea folk. This hurt more than being away from them, seeing them and knowing she couldn’t go with them when they returned to Avonlea. They surveyed the row of orphans nervously and Anne wondered, hoped, that maybe none of them would recognize her. She’d accepted a long time ago that she would be forgotten, and while it hurt, god it hurt, it was better than them remembering her and seeing her this way. Seeing her here, now, like this.

“Ugh!” Josie Pye’s nose wrinkled in disgust as her high voice cut through the air. “Look at this place.”

“Shut up Josie!” Diana snapped.

“Your trashy orphan best friend got sent away years ago, you can stop standing up for her now Diana.” Josie said coldly, her tone superior, “besides, this place is filthy.” She sent a glare towards the assembled orphans and it was only too easy to tell what she meant. She didn’t really think the place was filthy- only that they were.

“Oh stuff it!” Diana snapped. “It’s clean as anything Josie, certainly cleaner than your house-“

She was cut off before she could continue her tirade.

“Young lady.” The head matron interjected coldly, glaring down at Josie, “if you find this place so abhorrent we would certainly appreciate your guidance and help in cleaning it up to your standards. That is, of course, what you are here to do, isn’t it?”

She glanced at Ms Stacy who gave a terse nod.

“Well in that case miss,” the matron continued, her gaze unwavering “you may pair with Joshua here-“ she indicated a brutish boy with bulging muscles “he’ll be cleaning out under the outhouses this morning.”

“What?” Josie yelped, “you expect me to shovel poop with an orphan boy?

“That is what I just said.” The matron agreed icily “best hop to it miss. You’ll find we keep to a tight schedule here.”

“But-“ Josie started to protest. 

“No buts.” Ms Stacy spoke up. “We’re here to help out and that’s what you’ve been assigned Josie.”

“What about a chaperone!” Josie wailed. A ripple of laughter came from a group of younger children passing through the main hall, and a few chuckles cane from the line of assembled orphans. Anne herself did her best to suppress a snicker. Giggles and whispers were running through the Avonlea group, however a few of them looked scandalised and others still looked wary, though whether from their looming assignments or working alongside orphans Anne couldn’t tell.

“I hardly think a chaperone will be necessary with the chores you’ll be doing.” The matron said, her glare unwavering, “but never fear. I’ve a view of where you’ll be working from my office. Be sure you do it properly, I can’t abide chores when they’re done wrong. Don’t try and pawn your work off on Joshua either, you’re supposed to be working together. Now,” she snapped her fingers under Josie’s nose, causing the blonde girl to flinch, “hop to it!”

“Just wait until my mother finds out about this!” Josie fumed as she was led away to the outhouses by a smirking Joshua.

This time a true roar of laughter came from the assembled orphans. Anne clutched at a stitch in her side laughing even harder than the others. She had a few unpleasant memories of Josie Pye. This felt like poetic justice, Josie finally getting what was coming to her all these years.

“Quiet!” The matron snapped and the orphans fell silent at once. Anne and a few of the others resisting the urge to curtsy. They all knew there were consequences for disobedience, consequences far worse than shovelling poop. No one wanted to be locked in the cellar, denied food, or strapped.

“Now,” The matron said, glorious and terrible all at one as she paced in front if them, “these people are visiting for the day.”

She turned a disdainful look to the Avonlea kids, one or two of whom gulped audibly. The head matron was a foreboding woman indeed with her no nonsense bun, cold gaze, and sharp tongue.

“You lot,” she said, “are visitors, but that doesn’t mean you’re here to have a good time. You’ve all grown up in respectable homes, which means things where you’ve grown up are run very differently than they do here. Well, you’re here to help which means you’ll help, and if you’re helping out here it means you’re working. You’ll put the work in charity work today or else I’ll know why. You’re young and strong and likely better fed than these ones,” she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the waiting orphans,” “which means you can all work. You’ll be paired up with one of the orphans. They’ve all got chore schedules for the day. You’re to shadow them and help them with their work. You lot may have come from better homes but you’ll listen to whoever you’re paired with. They know how things work around here. You don’t.”

She finished her lecture, leaving the Avonlea students looking petrified, and gave a cursory nod to Ms Stacy. 

“Anything you’d like to add madam?”

Ms Stacy nodded and cleared her throat.

“Yes thank you.” She faced her students. “You heard what the matron said. We’re here to help out and that’s what you’ll do. You are all to respect your guides and help them out properly and respectfully, you’ll answer to me as well as the matron if you don’t, understand?” 

The students nodded.

Ms Stacy turned to the line of orphans, looking into each pair of tired eyes individually. Anne was last in line and she saw Ms Stacy’s eyes widen a bit when she saw her, taking in her thin face and old clothes. 

Please don’t say anything, Anne begged silently. The last thing she needed was for everyone to suddenly be paying attention to her. Luckily Ms Stacy seemed to get the message.

“Thank you, all of you, for allowing us to work with you for the day. All of us greatly appreciate it, and I think it will help all of us broaden our horizons.”

A moment of silence followed her thanks before the matron let out a long suffering sigh and stepped forward.

“I suppose I should pair you up now.” She huffed, “Our rules of propriety are a little different than they are in your town,” she informed the Avonlea folk, “the numbers of girls and boys aren’t even which means there may end up being boy/girl pairs for chores. That’s what will happen and you’d best accept it.”

The Avonlea students looked scandalized but nodded fearfully, not used to the matron's presence and sharp orders.

“Shirley!” The matron barked. Anne cringed inwardly. Why, oh why did the matron have to call her first?

Whispers started through the Avonlea kids.

“Shirley did she say?”

“-like the Cuthbert’s?”

“Anne? Anne Shirley?”

She ignored them, keeping her head down and answered softly.

“Yes ma’am?”

“What chores do you have today?” 

She had to look up then, into the matron's eyes. In doing so she found all of the Avonlea students eyes on her. Diana let out a little gasp when she recognized her, her eyes widening, Ruby looked like she might cry and Gilbert Blythe’s eyebrows looked like they were trying to escape into his hairline. It was Billy Andrews’s reaction that took the cake though. He barked out a surprised laugh, and remarked in a voice loud enough for Anne to hear.

“Well if it isn’t Fido, back in her natural habitat.”

Ignoring him and keeping her face bland Anne answered the matron. 

“I’ve windows, sewing, and scrubbing this morning. Laundry, nursery, and cooking this afternoon, ma’am.”

“Hmm.” The matron said, turning shrewd eyes towards the Avonlea students. Her gaze landed on Billy.

“Miss Shirley do you know this boy?”

“As a matter of fact I do.” Anne answered. The matron had given her an opening and in doing so permission to attack, “I know all of these people, I resided in Avonlea for a while.”

She met his gaze and Billy Andrews looked into the coldest eyes he ever hoped to see.

“Things are very different here Billy Andrews.” Anne informed him icily, “I think you will not find this place so comfortable as Avonlea. Perhaps you would like to live the life of one of us for a day. I know for a fact Martha here is emptying chamber pots this morning. Maybe you’d benefit from helping her.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea Miss Shirley.” The matron said grimly, before giving her signature. “Hop to it!”

A revolted looking Billy was led off by a gleeful Martha, who shot Anne a laughing look as she led him away.

The matron sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You are wearing me out and we’ve already wasted enough time, considering there’s chores to do. Partner up you lot and hop to it!”

With that the matron turned on her heel and walked quickly up the staircase, effectively ridding herself of the entire business.

As soon as she was gone Diana and Ruby ran and nearly tackled Anne in a hug. Anne hugged them back and pulled away gently. It hurt seeing them like this, here now, when she knew it could only be temporary. It hurt even more when she knew they would leave without her to return to Avonlea and she’d be left alone here again.

“Anne, oh, Anne.” Diana sobbed. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

“It’s wonderful to see you Anne! You look so grown up!” Ruby added. 

The last time Anne had seen her, Diana Barry had been a beautiful girl. In the two years she had been gone Diana had grown into a gorgeous woman. 

“I’m happy to see you too.” Anne smiled. She was happy to see Diana and Ruby, ecstatic really, but she was a different person now than she was when she’d left Avonlea. She didn’t have it in her to be exuberant anymore. A broken heart and life the orphanage had assured that.

Diana’s smile faded at Anne's less than enthusiastic response.

“Oh Anne.” She breathed, “what happened to you.”

“I lost my parents. Again.” Anne answered shortly, “then I got sent back here. That’s what happened.”

“I’m sorry I never got a chance to say goodbye.” Ruby whispered through her tears, “I’ve missed you Anne.”

“I’ve missed you too.” She pulled the blonde into another hug, being reminded of Delia in that moment.

“The Cuthbert’s left you everything.” Ruby told her, “Did you know?”

Anne’s heart leapt for a second before it crashed painfully again. She couldn’t afford to get her hopes up. “I didn’t, but it hardly matters now. I can’t claim them until I’m at least eighteen, and married. Until then I’m stuck here.”

“Oh I hate seeing you like this Anne!” Ruby wailed. 

Anne smiled bravely, always being strong for everyone else. 

“I’m alright Ruby, really.” 

A matron shot them a dirty look and Anne realized most of the Avonlea folk had tentatively buddied up with the orphans. Eliza and Tillie Boulter seemed to be getting along swimmingly.

“Here,” Anne guided the still sniffling blonde towards Rafael, who seemed to be the only one who hadn’t yet partnered up. “This is my friend Rafael, you can work with him today.”

She sent him a pleading look and he nodded, sighing inwardly. He’d been hoping that one of the strong looking lads would pair up with him, but the majority of the Avonlea students had already paired up. Rafael had missed out because he hadn’t extended the hand of friendship. Now he’d be stuck babysitting a girl all day. At least she was pretty.

Rafael and Ruby weren’t the only boy/girl pair of the day. Most of the orphan boys looked annoyed, but a few seemed excited. As orphans they didn’t have many opportunities to meet girls outside of the orphanage.

“But I want to work with you Anne!” Ruby protested.

“We’re supposed to buddy up one on one.” Anne explained softly, “and I think Diana wants to pair with me. I’m sorry Ruby but I have to go, I’ll get in trouble if I don’t.”

Ruby took a look at the bruise on Anne’s collarbone and her old friend’s pallid complexion and nodded in assent, giving the redhead one last hug.

“It’s been so good seeing you. Promise to come back to Avonlea some day.”

Anne just smiled, giving her a quick squeeze and a soft farewell before hurrying away.

“Come on,” she beckoned Diana. “We’ve chores to do.”

Diana followed her mutely as she grabbed two buckets and headed out to the pump. 

“Anne…” Diana didn’t seem to know where to start.

Anne smiled at her, a dim twisted thing, and Diana’s heart ached. Somehow finding Anne was worse than not knowing where she was. When Anne had been sent back at least Diana could convince herself she’d been adopted again, that she was happy. Finding her here, in this workhouse prison, made her want to cry. The best friend she’d ever had looked completely broken. She’d lost her verve, her energy. Even her smile was different.

Anne looked grown up, but not entirely in a good way. Her skirts touched the floor, her hair had darkened and it was pinned up nicely. One of the pins, Diana noticed, was the pearl one Marilla had given her when she’d first arrived at green gables. Anne didn’t have any of her usual energy, none of her enthusiasm, and she’d said nary a word. Diana's stomach twisted. Anne was always talking, it was part of what made her Anne. Besides that, Anne held a deep wistful sadness, and the sadness aged her far more than anything else. Just because Anne had grown up, Diana realized, didn’t mean she was better. Her face was pale and her build slimmer than ever even if she had grown curves. There was a bruise on her collarbone, and her shoulders curled forward with hopelessness. The fierce friend of her youth kept her chin up defiantly no matter what. This new Anne kept her head bowed, and her demeanour demure, like the fire that had burned in her heart had finally burnt out. 

This new Anne had given up, and somehow that was worse than anything Diana could have dreamed up. At least, Diana had thought when Anne had left, that no matter what she was a fighter. Anne Shirley Cuthbert could get through anything.

Apparently not anymore. 

“Let’s go.” Anne said, lifting both buckets easily. Diana saw wiry muscle in her overly thin arms, and noticed Anne’s soap cracked hands. These details, as well as her businesslike demeanour and the way she so easily lifted the water buckets, showed Diana that Anne was no stranger to hard work.

Anne led her inside, grabbed scrubbing brushes and a few bars of soap, directing her to a spot on the floor.

“We’ve got to do the whole front hall.” Anne said, as if it was as easy as dusting shelves. Diana’s eyes widened. The front hall was huge, and Anne was acting like she did this everyday. She realized with a start that Anne probably did. “Then windows, and some mending before we can go to lunch. Let’s aim to be done scrubbing for nine.”

Diana’s mouth popped open in shock. That was a little over an hour and a half. It was impossible! 

Anne started scrubbing, with more vigour than Diana had seen from her from anything else all day; she was faster at it than Diana and completely tireless.

They chatted idly while they worked, catching up, but Diana felt a hollow feeling in her chest. There was no poetic imagery in anything Anne was saying, and she seemed to have completely lost her ability of imagination. It made for very grim conversation and Diana wanted to cry. Maybe the real Anne was dead. This broken girl, with the tired eyes and without the big words of her youth was nothing but a hollow shadow of the girl she once was. This girl seemed made of broken dreams. The Anne she knew had been made of real ones.

By eight thirty Diana was pouring sweat and gasping for breath.

“Diana!” Anne cried dismayed, “Don’t tell me you’re tired already! We’ve only just started.”

“Don’t” Diana panted “you get breaks?”

Anne’s face turned cloudy. “We get three meals a day. Those are our breaks. We’re orphans here Diana. We work for our keep.”

“Anne,” Diana pleaded softly, sitting back on her heels “oh Anne please come home with us. You needn’t ever come back here. You’re not you anymore.”

“I can’t leave Diana.” Anne said, true heartbreak colouring her tone. She continued to work even as she said it. “Someone needs to take me into service or agree to adopt me. I have to stay until I’m at least sixteen. That’s the law.”

“What if Ms Stacy takes you?” Diana cried, “you could be an assistant teacher for the little kids or something.”

“You can ask her if you want.” Anne replied woodenly, none of her old hope in her voice, “I won’t. I doubt she’ll agree anyhow. I gave up hoping for a miracle when I got sent back here for the last time.”

“Anne please, I want you back. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Anne smiled, the same dim, tiny, broken smile as earlier, that hurt Diana more than it helped her. That wasn’t Anne’s usual grin, it was a pitiful shadow of it. “Please don’t ever think that I don’t miss you. I miss you more than I can even say, and I think about you all the time. But this is my life now Diana. No one in Avonlea wanted to take me in when the Cuthbert’s died, and I doubt they’ve changed their minds in the two years I’ve been gone.”

“After you left,” Diana whispered tearfully “I cried every night for months. I still cry sometimes. Ruby and I decided no one was allowed to take your spot in school. Your seat is still empty.” She let out a shaky sob, “I tried everything, everything I knew to convince my parents and anyone else to take you in. No one listened. I wrote Aunt Jo but she couldn’t find you. Gilbert went to look, and when he came back with Bash I thought he found you but he didn’t, and so,” she sniffed, “I lost the best friend I ever had. I lost you.”

“I still cry too.” Anne confessed, keeping her eyes pointedly on the spot she was scrubbing, “but only at night. It’s pointless to dwell on the past here. It hurts more than it helps, you know? But I miss you too. I have three little girls here, that I look after more than the others. I tell them stories about you, Princess Diana and all about the Kingdom of Avonlea.”

Diana let out a watery laugh. Maybe Anne hadn’t lost all of her imagination after all. Of course she hadn’t, Diana thought, it was what made her so wonderfully Anne. That gave her hope. If Anne could still imagine, the real Anne must still be buried somewhere right?

“What are your girls names?” Diana asked.

An almost maternal smile crossed Anne’s face. “Miriam, Delia, and Elise.”

“They sound lovely.”

“They are.”

Nothing more was said for a while, both girls focused on their work. 

“You mentioned something about Gilbert looking for me.” Anne started hesitantly, “who’s Bash?”

“After Gilbert’s dad died and he went to look for you, he went travelling all over. Worked as a stoker on a cruise ship for a while and met a friend, Bash. They got close, close as brothers and Gilbert invited Bash to come live with him back in Avonlea. Bash met a woman in the bog in Charlottetown, Mary, and they got married. They’ve got a baby now, called Dellie. I hear she’s the sweetest thing.”

“Haven’t you met her?” Anne asked curiously. Avonlea folk always got around to meeting people’s babies. 

“No,” Diana shook her head, while she watched some kids being dragged by their ears through the front hall. She winced at the noise of their whimpers but Anne didn’t even seem to notice. “Bash is black. My parents won’t let me anywhere near him and his family. It’s a shame really. From what I’ve heard they’re lovely people.”

“You and Gilbert,” Anne’s voice caught a bit on his name, and the emotion in it reminded Diana of what Anne and Gilbert almost were, “are close then?”

“I think we missed you the most when you left.” Diana said quietly, “that’s when we really started talking.”

A storm flashed in Anne’s blue eyes, anger clouding her features abruptly. 

“You keep saying I left Diana!” Anne snapped, “left like I had a choice! Need I remind you I was literally escorted away and shoved right back in here! I didn’t choose to leave Avonlea, I was forced out when Marilla and Matthew-“ her voice caught, “-when they died.”

“I’m sorry,” Diana said, “I don’t mean to sound accusing, I'm just- I’m just angry at the whole world for taking you away from me.”

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Anne sighed, her old passion fading into the same new sadness, “Anger won’t do anything. Trust me, I learned that the hard way.”

Diana decided she didn’t want to know what she meant as she followed Anne outside to dump her washpail. Anne handed her pail off to a girl who couldn’t be more than nine and Diana did the same.

The orphanage was a truly horrible place, Diana found as she got her first real look at it while she followed Anne to get rags and vinegar to clean windows. The place itself was large but everything was cold, dark, dank, worn out, broken and scrubbed raw. Children were everywhere, harried looking and anxious. Kids as young as eight doing hard labour. Matrons and older orphans chased after younger kids with dirty faces, and harsh scoldings and the echoes of slaps carried down the halls. Screaming and crying rang out from toddlers, hardly comforted by their overwrought nursemaids. The orphan’s clothes were worn to near threads, and weren’t nearly warm enough for the chill of late fall. Most of the kids sported bruises, cuts, or scars of some sort, Anne herself had a nasty bruise on her collarbone. It was more than just the misery and disarray though, more than the cold air and dingy walls. All the kids seemed to share the same sort of wistful sadness as Anne, as if waiting for a message that would never arrive. Weariness ducked their heads and stole the words from their mouths, hopelessness curled their shoulders forward, and fear kept their work efficient and their movements quick. Matrons watched over them and Diana flinched at the harsh discipline they handed out, be it a slap or a scolding. Many of the kids looked sickly, sick enough that they should be resting instead of working. They watched her with anxious eyes and hollow cheeks as she passed. 

“Anne,” Diana whispered, “what do you do if you get sick?”

“Here you work until you quite literally drop.” Anne said, and Diana noticed her voice seemed worn out, as if she might be sick too. “There isn’t enough time or resources to look after a small fever or a cough or sore throat. Anyone who gets real sick goes to the infirmary, but no one wants to end up there. For some the infirmary ends up being a death sentence.”

“That’s horrible!” Diana gasped.

Anne shrugged. “It’s all we can do here. There’s no money Diana. Not enough for enough food or proper clothes, and certainly not enough for a doctor. Besides, we get new kids dropped off all the time. There’s always more mouths to feed.”

Diana flinched. She knew she’d be haunted for weeks at the bleak and downright horrific way Anne described life at the orphanage.

Anne passed her a small basin of vinegar and a rag and they started washing the windows. Diana watched a group of little kids playing on the frozen lawn. She noticed even the littlest ones looked downtrodden.

A thought occurred to her.

“What about school?”

Anne looked surprised. “What about it?”

“Do any of you ever get to go?”

“Myself and a few of the matrons teach the little ones who are ten and under twice a week.” Anne told her, “Just basic things, like reading, writing, and basic math. But schooling isn’t considered important here. There’s no properly qualified teacher if that’s what you're asking, and none of us older kids get any schooling at all unless we teach ourselves. We’re not going anywhere Diana. It’s better to learn to do chores early here. Work hard, work silently, and work quickly. We’re all put into service eventually and no one cares if we can read, they only care that we can work.”

It hurt that Anne was so detached now. She lumped herself in with all the other inhabitants of the orphanage, described her bleak existence as if it was inevitable, the only reality that existed. It hurt even more to know that Anne was right, and servitude was her only option living at the orphanage.

Diana set her jaw. That settled it. She would figure out a plan to save Anne before the end of the day. Even if it killed her.

Despite the fact that her arms felt like wax Diana scrubbed the window with renewed vigour. 

There was still a few more hours of chores left before lunch by the time Anne and Diana finished the windows. They had passed numerous orphans as they moved around the orphanage, and with them a few Avonlea students. Anne kept her head down for the most part, always quickly stepping out of the way of the matrons and exchanging impersonal nods and terse greetings with the few kids she knew. They passed Ruby who was helping her partner stuff a rotted wall with paper and horsehair for insulation, and Tillie who was toting a large stack of old clothes alongside her partner. Diana shared wide eyed looks with her classmates, seeing they were faring no better than her under the crushing workload. Like Anne, their partners didn’t seem inclined to chatter and seemed accustomed to the work. Diana was hot, sweaty and hungry already, and let out a sigh of relief when Anne said they would be sewing until lunch. Her relief was short lived when she saw the sheer number of garments that needed alterations and mending. She’d thought sewing would be easy after the morning of menial tasks. Apparently that was not the case.

Anne got to work. Diana had believed herself to be a relatively good sewer but Anne left her in the dust, mending seams, altering waistbands and sewing buttons with a speed Diana didn’t think was possible. She noticed, with a jolt of bittersweet realisation that Anne always embroidered a flower or a star or something onto all of the skirts. None of the dresses were particularly pretty and they’d all been worked over and worn out. Of course Anne would find a way to add just a little bit of beauty to them.

“We all work so hard here there’s always lots of things that need mending.” Anne explained quietly as she tied off a thread. They shared the room with five other girls who were all younger than both her and Anne. They all were working diligently though, with the same deftness as Anne. “Kids are always growing too, so the second someone grows out of something it gets washed and darned and handed off to the next person.”

“How many kids are here?” Diana asked quietly. There were obviously a lot, as the relatively large building was already bursting at the seams. 

“I’m not sure exactly,” Anne mused, “there’s about fourteen of us older girls, the ones fifteen and older, and there’s a hundred and thirty four little girls. I haven’t the slightest clue how many boys are here. Maybe Rafael knows. I could ask him.”

“Who’s Rafael?”

“He’s...well, he’s a...” Anne wasn’t quite sure how to describe him. They were technically engaged and yet she knew hardly anything about him. She thought of him as a friend but what they had was nothing compared to the friendships she’d had in Avonlea. “...a friend of mine.”

“You’re fiancé more like!” One of the younger girls piped and the others giggled over their work.

“Fiancé?” Diana nearly shrieked.

A red flush bloomed on Anne’s cheeks. 

“It’s hard to explain.” She murmured.

“Well do try!” Diana snapped, “We’re you even going to mention you’re engaged? Or introduce me to your beau?”

“Things aren’t the same as Avonlea here,” Anne said softly, “I’d hardly call Rafael my beau, I hardly know him.”

“And yet you’re engaged?”

“Yes!” Anne bit out, her patience having worn thin, “If I marry him I can get out of here sooner! We have an agreement.”

“Anne you’re only just fifteen!” Diana wailed.

Anne’s nimble fingers never missed a stitch even as she argued. 

“It won’t be until next year at the earliest. Rafael turns seventeen in a month which means he’ll be leaving. We won’t get married until he’s got a place for us to live.”

“So you love him then?” Diana asked softly.

Anne laughed at that and Diana flinched. It was a laugh raw with disbelief, and soft with sadness, not the bubble of joy it used to be, an expression of Anne’s old love of life.

“Love doesn’t matter here Diana. Rafael’s steady and marrying him is convenient. That’s all there is to it.”

“What about Gilbert?” Diana asked.

Anne laughed shortly, the same cold laugh, devoid of any warmth it once held.

“What about him? I’m not in Avonlea anymore. That’s something you don’t seem to understand Diana. I’m an orphan girl, not an Avonlea citizen who's been misplaced.”

“I’m sorry Anne.”

“I don’t need your pity.” Anne snarled. 

Diana tried not to flinch at the harshness of Anne’s tone. The girl she was in Avonlea would never have been so hateful or so callous. This Anne was different.

Diana fell silent and they remained that way for the rest of the morning, Diana sewing stitches diligently so Anne wouldn’t see her cry. Not that it really mattered. The Anne she loved, the girl of poems and romanticism was gone, and Diana worried she’d never surface again. Even if she did come up with some way to rescue Anne from the orphanage. 

A loud bell tolled, making Diana jump and jolting her out of her thoughts. Anne rose calmly from her seat alongside the other girls, folding the mended garments, piling them up and leaving the rest on a heap on the floor.

“Come my darling Diana,” Anne said, with a brief apologetic glance and slightest hint of warmth in her voice as she swept out the door with the stack of clothes in her arms. “We’ll drop these off in the storage closet and then we’ll go to lunch.”

The storage closet was just a room with neat stacks of assorted clothes on every surface. Anne left her stack in a bin just inside the doorway.

“Someone else will have the job of sorting them this afternoon, and then when someone needs bigger clothes they’ll be handed out.” She explained as she pointed out a room that steam was billowing out of. “That’s the laundry room. We’ll be working there this afternoon.”

Anne led her into the dining hall and Diana immediately gasped. Every inch of the long tables was crammed with orphans who were chatting, squalling, or squabbling. Girls and boys of all ages sat lumped together, not separated at all the way they would be in Avonlea. Girls dressed similarly to Anne handed out food, while others sat next to hard faced boys who were near fully grown. Diana gasped, scandalized when she saw a couple, clearly unwed, kissing most improperly, and another girl who was seated on a boy’s lap.

A little girl with wild brown curls that had somehow escaped her braids raced over, a blonde girl right on her heels. A harried looking redhead followed at a more dignified pace.

“Anne!” The blonde and the brunette launched themselves at Anne, clutching her skirts.

Anne laughed, and Diana’s heart soared. It was her real laugh, the one she’d had in Avonlea, not the sad mockery she’d heard earlier. 

“I take it these are your girls then?” Diana asked, smiling.

“Wha-oh, yes.” Anne said, as she ruffled the redhead’s hair and took the hands of the other two. 

Three pairs of curious eyes regarded her and Diana couldn’t help but blush under their scrutiny. Finally the red haired girl held out a hand for Diana to shake.

“Hello, I’m Elise. You must be one of the visitors from the school trip. How do you do?”

Diana shook the offered hand, noting how callused and rough it was. Her mother would have fainted!

“I’m Diana, it’s lovely to meet you.”

“Diana!” The blonde girl squealed, “like the stories!”

“Are you really a princess?” The littlest girl asked, wide eyed. Diana couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Not quite.” She admitted.

“You’re pretty enough to be,” The blonde decided, “I’m Delia by the way.”

“Lovely to meet you.” Diana reiterated as she shook her hand. “And what’s your name?” She directed the question at the little brunette, who chirped:

“I’m Miriam!”

“How delightful. Have you all known Anne for long?”

“Seems like a long time…” Delia mused, “though it’s kind of hard to tell.”

“Your dress is so pretty.” Miriam said in awe. “Can I touch it?”

Diana laughed uncomfortably, looking down at her clothes. She was wearing an old work dress. Ms Stacy had instructed them all to wear work clothes that morning, but there was still a clear difference between her dress and the drab thing Miriam was wearing, made out of an old potato sack. Diana’s dress was a light purple, speckled with blue and pink flowers.

“Miriam!” Elise scolded, “that’s rude. You can’t just ask things like that, no matter how pretty her dress is.”

“It’s alright,” Diana assured her, “Here.” She held out a corner of her dress and Miriam stroked it reverently.

“It’s so soft! Looky Anne looky, see how pretty it is?”

Anne smiled down at her, but her eyes looked haunted. “I see.”

Diana accepted a bowl from one of the girls serving the food and was once again faced with the bustling room and the dilemma of where to sit.

“Diana!” Hands waved at her from a table near the back of the hall and Diana gratefully hurried towards the table where Ruby, Jane, and Tillie were sitting with their respective guides, although Josie was nowhere to be seen. Charlie, and Moody sat across from them at a respectful distance, Avonlea custom and propriety evident even here. Ms Stacy was sitting at the very corner of the bench, conversing with the boy who Anne had partnered Ruby with, (who she now assumed was Rafael), and a few of the other orphans.

Diana took a seat next to Ruby, while Anne took one beside Rafael and her three girls took seats across from her.

“Anne!” Ms Stacy smiled but her eyes were sad when she adressed her. “How are you? It’s so wonderful to see you again.”

“Hello ma’am.” Anne murmured politely. Diana’s eyes widened. Since when had Anne called Ms Stacy ma’am. “I’ve been fine. How has your teaching been going in Avonlea?”

“Wonderfully. I’ve started a queens class for those who want to go to the college…”

Anne continued to converse politely with Ms Stacy while her old Avonlea friends had a hushed conversation. 

“What happened to her?” Jane whispered, “she’s like a completely different person!”

“She’s living here,” Diana hissed back, “I’ve only been here half a day and it’s been horrid! And we’re not actually staying here. Anne is. She’s depressed.”

“She lived here before she came to Avonlea,” Charlie pointed out, “she wasn’t like this before.”

“Elise dear,” Diana said, momentarily distracted, “shouldn’t you wait until we’ve said grace before you eat?”

Elise looked up at her in confusion, her mouth full of food. Beside her the other little girls had already dug in and a quick glance at the other orphans showed they had too.

“The matron only says grace at dinner time,” Charlie’s guide explained. He was a broad shouldered boy whose pants were more patches than fabric. He’d introduced himself as Garvey, “we don’t say grace at breakfast or at lunch. There’s no time and too much to do.”

The Avonlea folk exchanged shocked glances. In Avonlea, grace was said before all three meals no matter what.

Diana said a quick grace in her head before she dug in.

Lunch was a thin bowl of watery soup and a slice of bread- no butter. Diana finished her’s quickly, as did the others. When Ruby, cringing, asked for seconds, Anne shook her head.

“There’s three meals a day here. That’s it. Sorry Ruby but there's not enough food for seconds.”

“Do you at least get dessert after dinner?” Ruby asked shyly.

“Dessert?” Miriam piped up, her dimples flashing innocently, “What’s that?”

That answered the Avonlea kids questions, who quickly bent pitying faces over their bowls.

Anne and the other older orphans looked down, embarrassed. Elise cleared her throat softly, seeming pained. “It’s when we get a treat after dinner Miri. Like a cookie or something.”

“Oh,” Miriam nodded in understanding, “the last time that happened was on Christmas.”

Anne and Elise blushed. No one seemed to know what to say and the rest of the lunch break passed in silence, save for the younger kids innocent chatter, and Ms Stacy’s queries about the orphans schooling, which she seemed to find distinctly lacking. 

The bell gently tolled and the orphans leapt to their feet, their fumbling partners scrambling up a moment later.

“Hey where’d Gilbert go?” Moody asked as they walked to leave their dishes on the trays. Anne couldn’t help but walk a bit slower when she heard the curly haired boy's name. As much as she wished he didn't, Gilbert Blythe had always had an effect on her. Despite her attempts not to care about him her heart couldn’t seem to get with the program, and in Avonlea she’d let herself believe that something between them might be possible someday. It had certainly felt like it. Even now, here at the orphanage when she’d long since given up on him, she couldn’t help but slow down at the mere mention of his name. Gilbert Blythe was magnetic in a way that no one else was.

Charlie lowered his voice so Anne only caught words like ‘infirmary’, ‘sick’, and ‘practice.’

A gentle touch on her shoulder made Anne flinch. Diana stepped back apologetically after Anne’s reaction.

“Sorry,” Diana murmured.

Anne forced a smile. “It’s fine. We’ve laundry next but only for an hour. The matrons know I’m good with kids so I end up assigned to the nursery a lot.”

The laundry room was supervised by a hard faced, no nonsense matron. Diana toiled alongside Anne and nearly twenty other girls, stirring clothes, scrubbing against washboards, wringing out and hanging sheets and folding mountains of laundry.

“Do you really have to do this all day everyday?” Diana gasped as she carried a bin of laundry upstairs.

“Every day.” Anne sighed, “But service is usually worse than here.”

Anne had double the load Diana was carrying, a laundry basket propped on each hip. She hardly seemed winded.

“I’m going to get you out of here Anne.” Diana promised. “I promise. Whatever it takes.”

“Don't do that,” Anne begged, “don't get my hopes up for something that we both know is impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible!” Diana said fiercely, “you taught me that.”

Anne’s voice lashed out like a whip. “I was wrong.” 

After leaving the clothes in the dormitories they returned downstairs. Diana spent a few more minutes venting her frustration while she scrubbed stains out a pair of overalls. The bell chimed again, and Anne led her to their next assignment in silence. The orphans all lived by that bell it seemed, it dictated their lives.

Diana nearly burst into tears when they got there. Tillie and her partner were leaving when they arrived and Tillie immediately handed her a crying toddler.

“Welcome to the nursery.” Anne said dully, by way of introduction. 

The room was spacious and bright by the orphanages standards, but the fake cheeriness of it only served to make it all the more sad and dreary. Every inch of the space was crammed with rows of cribs full of young toddlers and infants. There weren’t enough nursemaids, only a few orphanage girls who included Miriam, Delia, and Elise. Anne and Diana were the eldest girls in there and Diana couldn’t help but wonder if Anne was supposed to be looking after them as well as the babies. Some of the babies were crying, but there weren’t enough people to comfort all of them. A few were asleep, and others babbled softly, bouncing and clinging on to the bars of their crib. Still more just watched her with wide, innocent eyes, too young to be aware of the sad life ahead of them.

Elise flashed her a tight, perfunctory smile as she changed a diaper. Diana felt a slight tug on her dress and looked down to see two little toddlers clutching onto her skirts, looking up at her. She smiled and scooped them up, one on each hip.

“Hello my little darlings.” she cooed.

One of them, a little boy with blue eyes babbled happily, a few words making sense here and there. The other boy’s face screwed up and he began to wail. 

She set the happy one on the ground where he toddled away and focused her attentions on the crying one. No matter what she tried she couldn’t get him to hush. Eventually Elise took pity on her.

“Here, I’ll take him. Why don’t you help Brenna over there change nappies?” She pointed to a thin faced preteen with lank brown hair.

After a brief nod and exchange of words Diana settled into a rhythm beside the brown haired girl, changing diapers methodically. Her eyes welled up with each baby she changed and put back into its crib. They were all so sweet! It was terrible they’d grow up without a mother!

Even as she changed diaper after diaper Diana could see she was by far the most useless person helping out in the infirmary. Anne bustled around, feeding, burping, and rocking babies with ease, always looking after two or even three at once. Elise had a talent for putting babies to sleep, and Delia was good with toddlers, playing with them and helping them learn to walk and talk. Other girls seemed used to it too, small bundles nestled in their arms as they changed diapers or wiped runny noses one handed.

The bell tolled and Diana glanced over at Anne as a few girls left the room and new ones took their places. Anne shook her head.

“We’re here another couple hours.” She said, “the matron usually has me here as much as possible.”

Diana nodded and rocked the little girl in her arms. It felt like she’d tried everything to try and get her to stop crying but nothing seemed to be working.

“Anne she won’t stop crying!” Diana complained after the infant continued to wail five minutes later. 

“Give her to me,” Anne said, “I think she’s teething, poor thing.”

“Doesn’t she need a rag or something to chew on then?” Diana vaguely remembered when Minnie May had been teething, and her mother had given her rags or ice to bite on.

Anne sighed. “That would be best but we haven’t any to spare here.” She stuck a finger in the baby’s mouth. “I’ll let her chew on my finger for a bit, it should help for a little while at least.”

Diana’s heart ached for the babies that would never really have everything they needed, who would never know the meaning of comfort or safety or love. Anne’s face was clouded with heartbreak. She felt the same.

“...women’s work! I don’t want to look after orphaned brats!” Billy Andrews’s unmistakable drawl preceded him.

“Shut your trap!” A girls voice snapped back, “You think you’re so high and mighty, and I’m really getting sick of it. You’ve got two choices and that’s to either help me with my work for the day like you’ve been told or to go explain to the matron why you aren’t doing your part. You’ve had lunch which means you’ll work for the rest of the day to earn it!”

The duo appeared then, a formidable looking girl of about sixteen, who was dragging a filthy looking Billy Andrews into the nursery, her grip tight on his arm and her tongue lashing as she scolded him.

She sighed and halted when she got inside, keeping a firm grip on Billy like she expected he’d run away if she didn’t. 

“Sorry we’re late,” she sent an apologetic look at Anne, “brainless here hasn’t managed to get any of our chores finished on time yet!” She levelled a glare at Billy. Diana expected him to snap back but he just looked cowed, withering under the fierce glare from his guide. 

Wow, Diana thought. She never thought she’d see the day when someone could get Billy Andrews to shut up. Apparently his brusque and capable partner had managed it.

Anne laughed. “It’s fine Martha don’t worry. I know how difficult it can be to deal with Billy Andrews.”

Martha nodded, casting an unimpressed glare at her useless partner.

“Do you know how to change a nappie?” She demanded. Billy gulped and shook his head.

“Well,” Martha sighed, scrubbing her hands in the washbasin and wiping them on her apron. “No time like the present to learn. Come on I’ll teach you.”

Suddenly Diana wasn’t the most useless person in the nursery. She exchanged amused looks with Anne, both of them trying not to laugh as Billy fumbled through Martha’s impatient lesson. She almost felt the way she had in school back in Avonlea, when she and Anne would try not to laugh at one of Moody’s ridiculous answers or Charlie Sloan’s failed pranks.

Eventually Martha gave up with a huff telling Billy to ‘try and make yourself useful and if you can’t manage that just try not to make anything worse!’ Diana’s amusement only tripled when tiny Miriam came to Billy’s aid. The image of an eight year old earnestly teaching a revolted seventeen year old how to swaddle a baby he seemed half afraid of sent her over the edge and she collapsed into a fit of giggles. Even Anne and Martha found it funny, they grinned, eyes shining as they watched the scene. Diana’s laughter only seemed to sour Billy’s mood more, but Miriam became even more determined to teach him, tugging on his shirt whenever he turned away, to get his focus back on her lesson.

Martha let a giggle slip out as she burped a baby who couldn’t have been more than three months old. 

“He’s been a nightmare all day honestly! Nearly fainted when we were emptying chamber pots.”

“I bet.” Anne commented dryly, “has he been awful? He was a right gargoyle to me when I lived in Avonlea.”

“That last one I had was worse.” Martha said, “at least I can almost control this one, and his insults aren’t even original.”

“I’m surprised to see you here actually,” Anne confessed, folding a blanket with one arm and feeding a baby with the other, “I thought you were doing chimney’s today.”

“One of the matrons gave that to Rafael since he isn’t working outside today and sent me here instead.”

“Well I’m glad,” Anne said frankly, “we need all the help we can get in here. Even Billy.”

“Oh,” Martha perked up, a thought apparently having just occurred to her, “I meant to ask. I’m scheduled for infirmary next. Would you switch with me?”

Her tone was pleading. Anne knew why and her heart ached. Martha’s little brother had died of fever in the infirmary, barely a year earlier. Martha hadn’t been inside since. Children passing away in the infirmary wasn’t an uncommon experience due to the orphanages distinct lack of resources, but usually they didn’t leave anyone behind. Martha had been absolutely devastated when her brother passed.

“Sure,” Anne smiled laying a comforting hand on Martha’s arm, “I wasn’t looking forward to kitchen duty anyhow. You don’t mind working in the infirmary do you Diana?” 

“Not at all.” Diana agreed graciously. 

“Does anyone else have infirmary next?” Anne asked the room at large, a baby propped on each hip while another toddler clung to her dress.

“Elise does,” Delia said, as she walked past, “Miriam’s got free time so she’s going off to play with Jack and Laura, and I’ve got kitchen duty again.” She groaned and placed the baby she was holding gently in its crib, “I hate kitchen duty.”

“I’ll walk with you if you want.” Martha offered, “so long as you don’t mind helping me drag the brainless oaf along with us.”

Delia shot a look towards Billy and glanced apologetically back at Martha. “I’ll pass.”

Martha shrugged. “Can’t blame you there.”

A knock on the door caused the girls to look up. An orphan boy was there, a younger one probably twelve or thirteen, and covered in soot. Diana could see the slight flush of his cheeks, under all the coal dust. Anne and Martha just sighed, turning back to their work after sending the boy a cursory nod and an unimpressed look respectively.

“Excuse me Diana,” a voice to her left said primly. She looked over to see Elise. 

“Yes dear?”

“Would you mind holding Grace here while I go speak to Malcolm for just a minute?” Upon closer inspection she seemed to be blushing a little bit too. Dianna smiled conspiratorially and winked, taking the baby from Elise’s arms.

“Who’s that?” She murmured to Anne.

“Her best friend. His name’s Malcolm and he’s practically already in love with her.”

“Oh hush you,” Martha admonished, smacking Anne lightly on the arm, “they’re little and they make each other happy. There’s no need to see romance that isn’t there.”

“You didn’t see him when she was in service,” Anne retorted, “he looked like a kicked puppy. And he was twice as protective when she came back.”

“You were too as I recall.” Martha said, raising an eyebrow, “god knows the first time in service is never easy.”

Martha’s face was tight and her fists clenched, Anne’s was haunted, and Diana was left wondering what really happened to the kids put into service. 

“In any case love is too early for those two.” 

“So you say,” Anne retorted, “you remember well as I do that Regina married Thomas as soon as she turned fourteen and they’d been courting years before then.”

Diana was shocked. In Avonlea sixteen was considered the bare minimum for marriage, and here girls married at as young as fourteen! And courted even earlier?

“Look how well that ended for them,” Martha said coldly, “kicked out of this place into the street. Both of them dead within a year, him of fever and her of childbirth and their baby ended up right back in this place. All I’m saying is don’t create something that isn’t there and don’t go around encouraging them. Those two have good heads on their shoulders but that’s not to say they won’t make a mistake.”

Martha sounded a lot like Marilla Cuthbert had in that moment and apparently Diana wasn’t the only one who thought so, because Anne looked like she had been kicked in the stomach, and her eyes welled with tears that she quickly forced away.

“I’m not going to meddle in their affairs,” she said looking over at Elise and Malcolm. Elise was blushing and Malcolm laughing as he tweaked her braid and teased her. “They make each other happy and lord knows they could use any happiness they find in this place.”

She shared a significant glance with Martha, who sighed. “You’re right. They’re just kids, we’d best leave them be. They aren’t even our responsibility really.”

The conversation petered out after that, until Anne regretfully called Elise back to work and Malcolm got dragged away by a matron reprimanding him for dilly dallying.

The bell tolled again. This time Anne placed a delicate kiss on the heads of the babies she was holding and set them gently in their cribs. 

“We’ve got work in the infirmary now Diana. Come along.”

Diana followed Anne out of the nursery, nearly jogging to keep up with the red haired girl’s pace. Elise was walking beside her, glancing plaintively over her shoulder. 

“You’ll see Malcolm at dinner.” Anne admonished her, “there’s no use mooning after him now when you know the matrons will chase after both of you to get to work. You don’t see me running off to see Rafael whenever I get the chance do you?”

“That’s different.” Elise sighed, “you hardly like Rafael. Malcolm’s my closest friend besides Delia and I hardly ever get the chance to see him outside of mealtimes.”

“I know,” Anne sighed, pulling the girl into a side hug, “and I’m sorry, but that’s just the way things are.”

Elise nodded in resignation and Diana’s heart ached. Both Anne’s words and Elise’s hurt her. What kind of world was the orphanage where kids didn’t have a moment alone to play with their friends and their older caretakers could do nothing but sympathize with them? They truly had no power, no autonomy over their lives and it made Diana sick. This place was like a prison and yet all the orphans seemed to see it as a saving grace as well as a trap, which in a way it was. That made Diana feel even sicker, that a place such as this was something the kids here were more than grateful for.

“Charlie said Gilbert was working in the infirmary all day.” Diana murmured to Anne, whose face betrayed no emotion except a slight flush to her cheeks. Unconsciously a pale hand raised to smooth her beautifully styled hair. “Apparently the head matron asked for him to help out when she found out she was studying to be a doctor.”

“Oh,” Anne replied softly, her voice layered with too many emotions to count. She swallowed and composed herself. “What a lovely ambition. He’ll be a wonderful doctor I’m sure.”

From what she remembered of the hazel eyed boy, that would be true. The name Gilbert Blythe conjured up memories of passionate arguments and even more passionate apologies, intelligent conversations about anything and everything, and an unwavering kindness towards everyone, even her, even when she didn’t deserve it. And then her final memory of him, a comforting hug, the quickest press of chapped lips against her cheek, a painful goodbye, hazel eyes bright with unshed tears and a quirk of lips into the smallest smile. A smile whose memory had sustained her though many a painful day and caused her frail body to be wracked with sobs so terrible they felt like they might shatter her into a million pieces at night. There were a thousand memories and a million moments of Gilbert Blythe that Anne held dear. 

But of course memories could never really compare to the real thing…

As soon as she stepped through the doorway of the infirmary she froze, her vision tunnelling so that all she could see was the frame of a boy who had been lanky in his youth but had grown tall and broad shouldered in the few years since she’d seen him. His wild brown curls were swept slightly to the side like he’d been raking his fingers through them the way he’d used to do when he was agitated. In the two years she’d been gone Gilbert Blythe had grown up, but from the looks of it he hadn’t changed a bit. He still made her heart do summersaults in her chest and her mind race and completely stop working all at once.

Anne tore her eyes away from him, taking a deep breath and smoothing her skirts to compose herself. Oh yes, Gilbert Blythe had always had an effect on her. She’d thought that would have faded after being ripped away so quickly and being apart for two years. Apparently she’d been wrong. Gilbert Blythe was more magnetic than ever. 

No matter how much she was drawn to him she couldn’t afford to be distracted. She was a different person now and if she let herself get attached it would only hurt more when he left again.

“S-sorry.” She stuttered. Diana’s answering smile was all too knowing while Elise looked worried. “Sorry I must have zoned out for a moment.”

“Are you feeling alright Anne?” Elise asked, “Maybe you should take a bit of medicine yourself while we’re here.”

“Don’t worry darling, I’m fine.” Anne smiled tightly, smoothing Elise’s hair soothingly “I just got...distracted for a moment.”

“Oh.” Elise looked confused. 

“That boy over there,” Diana whispered to her, pointing to Gilbert who was across the infirmary, “he was to Anne what Malcolm is to you when she lived in Avonlea.”

Elise’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh. Oh that’s awful.”

Diana’s eyes widened in confusion, while Anne walked woodenly in the direction of Gilbert, “Why?”

Elise’s sad eyes grew even sadder. “Oh Diana think about it. If Anne cared for him half as much as I care about Malcolm, and was separated from him for two years and now she can see him but only because he’ll be leaving again...well she must be so confused. And she’ll probably be even more heartbroken when he leaves than when she lost him the first time.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Before Diana could crumble under the weight of the heartbreak Anne must be feeling, she tried to distract herself. “What do we do here?”

“Anne’s reporting to the nurse matron in charge of the ward. Then she’ll tell us what needs to be done. Probably things like sponge baths, giving homemade cough syrups, changing bandages and stuff like that.”

Diana nodded and looked around for the first time. The infirmary was similar in lighting to the nursery but the atmosphere was far grimmer. Beds lined the ward, filled with children of all ages. The ones who were injured were clustered towards the back but the majority were sick. Younger ones whimpered as they hacked out barking coughs that Diana recognized as croup from the time when Minnie May was sick. Others twisted and whimpered under blankets, their cheeks flushed with fever. More were delirious, muttering or crying or screaming, living through their nightmares. Still others were asleep, shaky breaths and bloodless cheeks showing just how close they were to slipping away. Matrons and attending orphans bustled around but clearly the ward was understaffed and whatever remedies they had insufficient, judging by the sheer number of sick kids and their conditions.

“There’s never enough money for a doctor.” Elise whispered, “we’re only allowed here if we're really really hurt or sick, and sometimes by the time someone does get sent here it’s already too late.”

Diana set her chin stubbornly. Maybe she couldn’t do much but she would do all she could to help give some of these kids a fighting chance.

“What can I do to help?”

While Diana was talking with Elise, Anne approached the matron in charge of the ward who, coincidentally, was currently speaking to Gilbert Blythe. His voice drifted towards her as he spoke, his back towards her, authoritative and slightly husky. He hadn’t noticed her yet.

“...telling you they need doctors, proper medicine! These home brewed remidies aren’t working and they’re seriously sick If you don’t do something they’re going to die!”

“The only medicine we’ve got here is prayers.” Anne said from behind him, “and you can guess how well they work. Apparently not even God cares about orphans.”

Gilbert stiffened and Anne could have sworn she heard him gasp, but a second later the sound was quite literally knocked from her mind when a matron wheeled around slapped her hard enough to knock her into a bed frame. 

She could hear Diana gasp from all the way on the other side of the room.

“How dare you speak that way about the Lord?” The matron yelled, glaring fiercely down at the red headed girl who looked very small and pitiful at that moment.

Gilbert, who had turned around as soon as he’d heard Anne yelp in pain expected her to glare and snap back at the matron. So he was absolutely shocked when the spark of anger in her eyes dimmed and she lowered her head.

“Forgive me ma’am.”

“It’s not me who will have to forgive you, you wicked girl. It’s the lord himself. You’d best beg his forgiveness, not mine.” 

“Yes ma’am.”

The matron gave her one last icy glare and stalked away.

Only Anne Shirley, Gilbert thought, would say something so blasphemous in such a matter of fact way, despite knowing the consequences it could have brought. Clearly she had known, judging by the way she’d braced herself right before the matron had swung at her. Not that it had done much since her cheek was already red and from the looks of it would bruise pretty well. Looking around the room, at the sick children he was trying to save, without medicine or even hope he couldn’t help but wonder if Anne was right.

The world was against them. They never even stood a chance. What sort of merciful god could let this happen?

He was jolted out of his thoughts at a small whimper of pain, as Anne reached up to rub her cheek.

“Anne!” He cried, his doctoring instincts kicking at the same time his Anne Shirley ones did. No matter how hard he’d always tried to convince himself that she was just a friend he couldn’t help but worry about her more than anyone else. It had nearly killed him when she’d left Avonlea. Now that he’d found her again his heart seemed to be taking the old adage ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’ very seriously.

“Are you alright?”

She looked up at him, clear blue eyes eyes meeting his and he got his first good look at her. He couldn’t help but gasp.

Anne had always been cute, but in the two years she’d been gone she’d grown extraordinarily beautiful. Her hair was pinned up and the red he’d likened to carrots in their school days had darkened to an auburn that seemed to glow like fire. Long skirts suited her, and her girlish frame had filled out. Her blue eyes were made more obvious with her hair pulled up and her lips were full, even if they did look chapped.

Still, beautiful as she was, she looked unhealthy. Her blue eyes were far too wide in her thin face. Though her skin had always been fair it was now so pale that her freckles looked like paint on wax, and her skin nearly translucent. Her slapped cheek was already red and a large blue bruise stood out on her collarbone, hinting at other beatings as punishments. Judging by her pallor and how thin she was she’d be lucky if she got through the winter without contracting consumption, which was a death sentence in the best of conditions, and would probably kill her quickly in the deplorable conditions of the orphanage.

“I’m fine.” Anne smiled up at him, but it wasn’t the same as it had been in Avonlea. It was smaller, softer, sadder. Twisted, somehow. “I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be.” He whispered. 

“That’s just how it works here.” She sounded resigned.

He didn’t know what to say to that, but he didn’t want to stop talking to her. He hadn’t seen her in two long years, and she was very different now. He wanted to catch up, wanted to find a way to get her to return to Avonlea.

To get her to return to her home.

Before he could think of something to say Anne had turned away from him, stepping past him to speak quietly with the ward matron. Gilbert stood rooted to the spot. Anne Shirley had always had an effect on him. Apparently that hadn’t changed in the two years she’d been away.

She touched him lightly on the shoulder and he jumped. She jerked her hand back quickly, as if she’d been burned. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, her whole demeanour demure. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

That seemed off. Anne was meant to be bursting with energy, not be shy, and afraid to the point where she cringed at slight movements. 

“No, no,” he said carefully stepping closer and taking her hand, “I didn’t mean to jump like that.”

She cleared her throat delicately but made no move to pull her hand away.

“The matron has put you in charge of the ward for the rest of the day. We’re all at your disposal.”

“I don’t know what else to do” he confessed, “they refuse to get a proper doctor. Without proper medicine I'm afraid a lot of these kids don’t have a chance.”

“I’m sure you’ve done all you can,” Anne reassured him, “the kids here are all tough. They’re fighters.”

“They still need a doctor-“

“There’s no money here for a doctor, Gilbert.” Anne said gently, only the slightest edge to her voice, “there’s hardly money for food. They can’t afford medicine.”

Gilbert sighed, running a hand through his wild curls. “That’s the worst part. That they’d be fine if they had the money for medicine. They don’t, and they’re doomed because of it.”

“It’s normal for this place,” Anne said sourly, her hands twisting her skirt nervously “there’s not enough of anything here, not enough food, or energy, or love. The one thing we never run out of is chores.”

They both fell silent after that, for a while. 

“How are you Anne?” Gilbert asked out of the blue, as he grabbed the bottles of home remedies and a basin to wipe fevered foreheads. Anne copied him, scooping up a bottle of ipecac and some bandages.

Anne considered the question. Something in Gilbert’s tone made her pause. He wasn’t just asking out of politeness, he really wanted to know.

Anne considered It. How was she really? Tired. So, so, tired. Her bones ached, and her eyes were heavy. She was the kind of tired that made her feel like she was fighting through clinging mud. It was hard to sleep, exhausted as she was, with the heartbreak she felt and the hunger that twisted her stomach. That was another thing: she was hungry. There was never enough to eat, especially when she spent her days doing backbreaking chores that required her full strength. Her throat had been prickling for a few days but not enough she really considered herself sick, and her body ached where she’d been struck. The bruise on her collarbone wasn’t healing as quickly as it should have and her freshly slapped cheek felt like it might split open. Her heart still ached constantly, crying out for the life she’d had to leave and all the dreams she would never achieve. Above all else she was lonely. Sure, she loved her girls and got along with Rafael, Eliza and Martha, but they were all even more closed off than she was. She didn’t have anyone like the friends she’d had in Avonlea. It was hard to get close to anyone here.

Could she really tell Gilbert any of this? Would he be able to understand if she did?

“I’m...about as well as can be expected. Life is difficult here.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Gilbert huffed. He nodded at Diana as he passed her and Elise who was washing used medicine bottles and setting out ingredients to brew more. 

“Honestly? I’m tired,” Anne confessed, “I get to bed late and have trouble falling asleep sometimes, and I get up early too. Never mind the fact I have night shifts in the nursery or here sometimes.”

“Gosh,” Gilbert whistled softly, “they’re working you half to death here aren’t they? All of you?”

“We’re orphans Gilbert,” she replied softly “we have to earn our keep. I’d rather be here than in service.”

“Wouldn’t you rather not be here at all?” He was provoking her and he knew it, trying to get a reaction out of her. Anything that wasn’t a resigned sigh, and an attitude that said she didn’t think anything would ever change.

“Of course I would!” She replied, shocked. “But I can’t leave until I’m at least sixteen and only then if I’m married. Otherwise I have to stay until I’m seventeen. My only way out now is if I get put into service or adopted. If I misbehave I’m punished and if I do something really bad they’ll kick me into the street with nothing and I’ll starve to death before the year is up.”

“So you’re trapped,” Gilbert whispered.

“Yes,” Anne sighed, looking sadly down at a little boy with a fever. Gilbert couldn’t tell whether the sadness was for herself or the sick boy she was caring for. “I’m trapped.”

“Will you come back to Avonlea when you get out?”

“I doubt it.” Anne said, “I’ll be married by then. Besides, as much as I miss it I’m not sure I want to go back. Avonlea decided it didn’t want me.”

“I didn’t!” Gilbert said fiercely, “neither did Diana. We tried everything Anne. Everything. Then...well my dad died-“

“I’m sorry.” Anne said, laying a comforting hand on his arm. He smiled softly.

“Kind of ironic huh? You get sent back to the orphanage and a few months later I’m an orphan myself. Anyway, after he died I decided I needed to get away from Avonlea, and I came looking for you. I knew you were in Nova Scotia but that was about it. I do remember coming here but…”

“I was in service for a while.” Anne said, “That’s probably why you couldn’t find me.”

“Somehow I ended up on a steamer.” Gilbert said, “I met my best friend there. Bash. You’d like him I think. We went a lot of places on the ship but eventually I decided to go home. Bash lives with me now, and his wife Mary. They’ve got a baby now too.”

“Tell me more about them,” Anne said longingly, “what are they like? Just...tell me things that I can think of when I want to pretend I’m not here.”

“The Anne I know never needed help finding things to imagine before.”

“The Anne you know is a different person than who I am now. Imagining isn’t the same anymore.” Anne said regretfully. “Avonlea was everything I’d ever wanted. Now that I’m here again...I can’t imagine anything better than Avonlea.”

“Well,” Gilbert started. What to tell her about the newlyweds? “Bash is from Trinidad. I think you’d like his accent. I sure do, it’s comforting. He teases me about everything, which I suppose brothers are supposed to do. I can’t really complain though, I give as good as I get in that regard. Avonlea still doesn’t accept him because he’s black, but I know you wouldn’t have the same prejudice. When he first met Mary he was completely enamoured with her. It took her a bit to warm up to him but they’re really desperately in love now. They balance each other out, he’s levity to her seriousness but she puts him in his place. She teases me too, but she’s sweeter than Bash. I don’t know exactly what she is to me. A sister I guess but sometimes she fusses over me in a motherly sort of way whenever I get sick or spend too much time on schoolwork.”

“They sound wonderful,” Anne smiled, “I wish I could meet them.”

“You can!” Gilbert cried, “l’ll find a way to get you out of here. I’ll-“

“Diana! Gilbert!” Ms Stacy poked her head into the infirmary, cutting off whatever Gilbert was saying. “We’re leaving now.”

Gilbert stiffened in panic and Diana sobered mid laugh from whatever Elise had said to her.

“R-really, Ms Stacy?” Diana asked forlornly, “Already?”

“I didn’t want to stay for dinner.” Ms Stacy answered, “you’ve seen how little food they have, to feed so many people.”

Diana nodded soberly, turning sad eyes toward Anne.

Ruby, Jane and Tillie pushed past Ms Stacy and ran over, nearly tackling Anne with hugs. Their farewells overlapped.

“-miss you!”

“-visit anytime!”

“-back! We all miss you!”

She wrapped her slender arms around them. “I miss you all too. Have a safe trip back to Avonlea.”

They detached themselves from her, with many tears on Ruby’s part. The blonde haired girl looked worse for wear after a day of chores, a clump of horsehair was stuck to her apron and she was covered in soot. “Oh I will miss you Anne. Avonlea isn’t the same without you!”

Anne smiled and rubbed her back soothingly. “You’ll be alright Ruby. You’ve gone two years without me already right?”

“But we only just found you again!” Ruby sniffled, “you should come back with us.”

“I can’t leave.” Anne said softly. “I’m not allowed.”

Ruby nodded, pulling Anne into one more quick hug before rejoining the rest of the class.

Diana faced Anne. Tears were already pouring down her face and she looked at her like there were too many things she wanted to say and didn’t have the time to say all of them.

The plump, dark haired girl pulled the willowy redhead into a crushing embrace that Anne returned wholeheartedly.

“Please,” Diana begged when they finally pulled apart, “promise me this won’t be the last time I ever see you. Promise me that one day you’ll at least visit Avonlea.”

“I promise.” Anne’s heart was heavy. She wasn’t sure that was a promise she’d ever have the opportunity to keep, even worse, she wasn’t even sure she even wanted to keep it.

“I’ll try and think of a way to get you out of here.” Diana vowed.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I doubt you’ll have much luck.” Anne said frankly.

“I’m determined,” Diana sniffed as she wiped her eyes. The two girls shared one last hug. “Take care of yourself Anne.”

“I’ll be fine darling don’t worry. Look after yourself too, you hear me.”

“I will.” She sniffled, pulling out of the hug and joining her classmates.

Then it was Gilbert’s turn.

“Actually Ms Stacy,” he piped up, “I’m going to stay a bit longer. I want to help here as long as I can. I’ll walk back later tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Ms Stacy’s eyes gleamed with pride but she still seemed hesitant.

“I’m sure Ms Stacy.” Gilbert’s voice was firm.

“Well alright then.” Ms Stacy agreed, “goodness knows they could use all the help they can get here and I’m sure they appreciate your expertise. You’re sure you remember the way back to the inn?”

“Yes Ms Stacy.”

“Be sure you return before dark then Gilbert.”

Gilbert nodded in agreement and the schoolteacher turned to Anne. She pulled the girl who was far too grown up into a gentle hug, apparently afraid that the frail looking girl would break if she squeezed her too hard.

“Anne Shirley,” Ms Stacy started, looking into Anne’s very blue eyes “to this day you are still one of the brightest students I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching. If you ever return to Avonlea...well, I’ll help you any way I can to get you caught up on your education.”

Anne’s eyes glowed with respect and gratitude. “Thank you Ms Stacy.”

And, well, that was progress at least, Diana had to admit. After all, Anne had called Ms Stacy ma’am at lunchtime.

As the schoolchildren filed out of the orphanage Diana cast one more glance back at Anne, who’d gone right back to work as if she'd already forgotten they had been there.

“So you’re staying?” Anne asked Gilbert softly, as Diana disappeared around the doorframe. 

“I didn’t think you’d mind…”

“Of course not. I’m sure you know more than anyone here how to help them considering you’re studying to be a doctor.”

“Oh, er, yes. I’ve got an apprenticeship, with Doctor Ward in Charlottetown.”

Anne’s heart gave another painful twist. How was it fair that Gilbert’s dreams were falling into place and hers had been ripped away before she’d even had a chance to experience them?

That wasn’t fair, she chided herself. She shouldn’t begrudge Gilbert for being happy when she wasn’t. She wasn’t that bitter. Not yet at least.

“That’s wonderful.” She forced out instead.

Gilbert’s face lit up and somehow that made her bitterness fade a bit. 

“I’ve learned so much Anne! Medicine is such an interesting field, it’s changing all the time and there have been so many new discoveries and advancements even just in the last year!”

“What made you decide on being a doctor?” Anne asked, as she rubbed salve over a burn on the chest of a boy with green eyes and black curls. 

“I want to help people.” Gilbert declared, “my dad, my brothers and sisters, they all died, and I know that doctors did their best to save them but I always felt so powerless. I watched a doctor visit my dad every day for years during his illness...well, I figured if I can find better ways to treat sicknesses like my dad had…maybe I can help save someone else’s dad one day, the way I couldn’t save mine.”

“Oh Gilbert.” Anne breathed, “that’s a wonderful reason.”

There was a little bit of the real Anne Shirley Cuthbert in the smile that she gave him then and the way her eyes momentarily glowed. Maybe that schoolgirl was still there, just buried under the pressure of the orphanage.

“What about you?” He asked, desperate to hold on to this glimmer of the real Anne, “What do you want to do?”

“What I want doesn’t matter anymore. Not here at least.” She clammed up again, folding in on herself, using her prison as her armour.

“If you weren’t here,” Gilbert pressed, “what would you want to do.”

Anne was quiet for a minute. So quiet that at first Gilbert didn’t think she was going to answer. Then…

“I want to be a teacher.” Anne said, so softly he almost missed it, “the matron let’s me teach the little ones sometimes and it’s the most fun I ever have at this place. There’s something wonderful too, about seeing them all progress and the way their eyes light up when they learn something new…”

“You’ll be a wonderful teacher.” Gilbert said confidently.

“I won’t ever be a real one.”

“Yes you will.” He said it with such conviction Anne was almost convinced. “I know you. You’ll be a teacher one day Anne Shirley. I know it.”

Anne didn’t really know what to say to that, so she just turned away back to her work.

Gilbert still had such faith in her. She wasn’t sure she still had faith in herself. In any case she wasn’t going to allow herself to hope.

The bell rang. Elise sent Anne a pleading look and the older girl sighed and nodded. Elise rushed out of the room, leaving Anne to clean up both her work and the tray Elise had been using to feed a boy with matching broken arms.

“That’s dinner I guess. Are you staying?” Anne inquired.

“No,” Gilbert shook his head, “they’ll be saving me some dinner at the inn I’m sure. I think I’ll stay here a little longer though.”

What he didn’t say was that he’d feel guilty taking even a single bite of food from the orphanage, even if it was being offered to him.

Anne nodded, clearing up the mess Elise had left in her haste to meet up with Malcolm.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Gilbert asked.

Anne shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

She was hungry, ravenous even, but she didn’t want to waste a second of time she had to spend with Gilbert. He’d have to leave soon and then it would be years at least before she saw him again, if she ever did.

“You should eat Anne,” Gilbert eyed her worriedly, “you already don’t look like they’re feeding you enough.”

She looked worse than that and the returning thought of her getting consumption sent a spike of fear into his heart. 

“I’m fine.” Anne dismissed him with a wave of her hand. 

“Really Anne,” Gilbert persisted, “you need to keep your strength up.”

“Really Gilbert,” she immitated his tone, “I’ll be fine. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone without dinner.”

“Do they really have so little food?” Gilbert asked, shocked. He’d known the orphanage was poor but he didn’t think they were so destitute that the kids were missing meals.

“Oh,” Anne looked surprised, “oh, no. They always have enough for three meals, however sparse, no, just if you misbehave sometimes you don’t get dinner as punishment.”

“Oh.” That made sense, although it wasn’t any better in Gilbert’s opinion. “In any case you should go eat.”

“Gilbert...” Anne sighed.

He fixed her with a smile, the same smile that had made her melt back in Avonlea and apparently still worked now. 

“Go eat Anne. I promise I won’t go anywhere without saying goodbye.”

Anne bit her lip, considering. “All right.”

She hurried to the dining hall and gobbled down food faster than she had in ages. She dodged Miriam and Delia’s relentless questions as quickly as she could, and sent a pleading look at Elise and Malcolm who did their best to distract them.

She finished before the dinner hour was over and hurried back to the infirmary, where Gilbert thankfully hadn’t forgotten his promise.

“Hello Anne-girl.” He grinned, that ridiculous schoolboy grin that made her heart skip a beat, even now. 

She couldn’t help but smile back. 

“How are things?”

“Good, I’ve got the fever down on that girl with chicken pocks, and wrote down a treatment schedule for the twins with scarlet fever. I’m still not sure what to do for those little ones with croup though. Nothing I’ve tried seems to be working.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take them outside for a bit later when I have a minute to spare.”

“Outside?” Gilbert seemed confused, “why outside?”

“Cold air helps. Makes them breathe easier.”

“Really?” 

“I brought up three sets of twins for Mrs Hammond and helped with countless others here and it works every time.”

“That’s amazing!” Gilbert exclaimed, “how did I not know about that?”

“It’s an old wives remedy, the kind you use when you can’t really afford a doctor. It’s not a legitimate treatment.”

“It should be if it works!” Gilbert protested, “what if there's other tried and true remedies that doctors aren’t using?”

“Their probably are,” Anne pointed out, “I guess you’ll just have to fix that won’t you Doctor Blythe?”

He grinned at the nickname.

“I guess I will.”

Anne’s eyes lit on the coat he was holding on his arms, and her smile dimmed.

“Oh. You’re leaving then?”

“I’m sorry,” Gilbert looked far too guilty, “I said I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, but I have to get back to the inn before dark so…”

“Come on Gilbert Blythe,” she smiled, the smallest a spark of her old mischievousness in her eye, “I’ve a free hour before I have to be back at the nursery. I’ll walk you back.”

He laughed. “Isn’t it usually the other way around?”

“I’ve never been very conventional,” Anne reminded him, “as I recall you aren’t either.”

Gilbert smiled. “Fair enough. I’d be delighted if you’d walk me back Anne Shirley Cuthbert.”

“Alright then, just give me a moment to grab my shawl.”

“Actually do you mind if I go with you? I’m not sure I remember how to get out of this maze.”

“Alright.” Anne agreed, “but you’ll have to wait outside the dormitory for me. There are very strict rules prohibiting any boys from going in the girls dormitory under any circumstances.”

Gilbert laughed. “I’d be shocked if there weren’t.”

They chatted idly as he followed her around a few corners and down long hallways. The orphanage seemed crowded and depressing, and the doctor in him couldn’t help but worry over the too prominent cheekbones and dozens of hacking coughs he heard, even just during the short walk. 

“Anne!” A voice called. Gilbert turned towards the voice, seeing another red headed girl with a boy about her age who seemed content to follow her around like a puppy. Gilbert couldn’t help but cringe a bit, figuring he must have looked quite similar in his pursuit of Anne when they both lived in Avonlea.

“Anne.” The young girl gasped when she caught up to them, clutching a stitch in her side. She’d been in the infirmary earlier, he realized, she was the one Diana had been chatting with. “One of the matrons wanted me to tell you that they’ve switched you to the midnight shift in the nursery. One of the matrons took sick so you’ll need to cover until morning. You’re off breakfast tomorrow though, since you’ll be up late.”

Anne sighed. “I figured they’d call me eventually. They don’t need me now though, do they?”

The girl shook her head, a little too quickly. “No, you’re not slated to start until eight. You still have some free time to spend with your...friend. Have a nice walk Anne, Gilbert!”

Only after she’d rushed off did Gilbert realize he’d never introduced himself.

“Who was that? And how did she know my name?”

“That’s Elise,” Anne shook her head with a fond smile that definitely made Gilbert curious. It was nearly maternal. “As to how she knows your name I haven’t the slightest clue. Maybe Diana told her when they were gossiping earlier.”

She ducked into the doorway of her dormitory before Gilbert had a chance to reply.

She returned a minute later, fastening a thin grey shawl around her shoulders.

“That’s not nearly warm enough.” Gilbert pointed out, as they walked out of the orphanage.

“It’ll do.” Anne said sharply, effectively cutting off any opportunity for Gilbert to argue. Even though she didn’t say it, Gilbert could almost hear what she really meant. 

I don’t have anything else.

As they strolled down the orphanage's long walkway Gilbert offered Anne his arm. It was the only gentlemanly thing to do anyway, he told himself, though deep down he knew it was only because he wanted an excuse to be closer to the redhead. Anne seemed to consider for a moment, but ultimately accepted it, looping her arm around his and leaning on him a bit. A thrill went through him until he realized Anne was leaning on him slightly more than necessary. Upon closer evaluation he realized that although her pace was still relatively brisk she was practically stumbling along.

“You’re dead on your feet Anne.” He observed, “you needn’t walk me back if you’re too tired.”

“Nonsense.” Anne replied with a tight smile, that seemed forced and practiced all at once. “I’m fit as a fiddle.”

Her words were polite but her tone dared him to argue. He didn’t take the dare. Instead he changed the subject.

“I didn’t realize you were allowed to leave the orphanage.”

“It’s not a prison,” she reminded him, though Gilbert disagreed, “kids in service are taken away all the time. Some of us go and shop with the matrons occasionally, help them haul the food into the carts and stuff, although the boys are usually the only ones who get assigned that job. I go for walks a lot though, during my free time. We can go wherever we want during our free time, it’s not like anyone cares so long as we’re back in time for chores.”

“Where do you usually walk?” Gilbert asked.

“Depends. This isn't a very nice area, not like...like Avonlea,” even Gilbert could see the effort it took as she forced the word out through gritted teeth, like the mere thought of Avonlea pained her, “usually I go to the docks, or down Main Street. I used to explore but I know this place like the back of my hand now considering I’ve spent the majority of my life here. Usually it’s just nice to get some fresh air. I’d say quiet too but...it’s never quiet around here.”

She was right. The orphanage had been full of crying kids and scolding matrons. Outside, men yelled from the docks, ships honked, trains whistled, people bustled and the buggies and cars rolled down the cobblestone streets. The working town and harbour never stopped, just like the orphanage. Just like Anne.

“I can see that.” He agreed. Though they hadn’t been walking for very long, Gilbert had spotted at least three things that would have sent the old Anne into a frenzied wonder that would have prompted her to begin a lecture about the world's beauty or tragedy. She was the one who had taught him to notice such things in the first place, but now they didn’t seem to excite her at all. Now her tired gaze only hovered on them a moment before she moved on, instead of pausing and waxing poetic until she had nothing more to say, at which point she would move on and find something else to talk about. 

“Be honest Gilbert,” Anne said, as they walked past hard faces, tired looking, dockhands and harried looking women, “what did you really think of the orphanage? If you had seen it before I went to live in Avonlea would you still have been my friend?”

“Oh Anne,” he sighed, “of course I would have. That place is absolutely vile and it saddens me that you’re stuck there but it doesn’t mean you’re...dirty, or lacking in any way that you think you are. You’re Anne Shirley Cuthbert. I’ve always wanted to be your friend and I always will.”

He’d expected her to smile, or hug him, or burst into tears, or launch into a passionate speech of her own. But he still thought of her as the old Anne, the one who hadn’t been crushed. He hardly recognized the girl she was now, which meant he couldn’t predict any of her reactions. Still, he was surprised by what she did. She didn’t seem to have payed attention to the most important part of what he’d said at all!

“Please,” Anne sighed, closing her eyes, “Please stop calling me that.”

Gilbert frowned, confused. 

“Calling you what?”

“That...that name. Cuthbert. Just stop!”

God, being called that hurt. Why couldn’t he see that? Instead he just seemed even more confused.

“What? Why? It’s your name.”

“No. No, it isn’t, not anymore.”

Anne Shirley Cuthbert had been a girl who was loved and cherished, no matter how many times she made mistakes because Marilla and Matthew were her parents and they just loved her. The Cuthbert’s had been the first people to love her unconditionally, and she had been so happy, so proud to share their name. The name Cuthbert had been more a part of her identity in Avonlea than the name Anne had. 

But Anne Shirley wasn’t the same girl. Anne Shirley may bear the name of her birth parents, but she’d never had the opportunity to be loved while she held it. Anne Shirley was a fanciful, flighty, nuisance and no one at the orphanage or in service had ever let her forget it. Anne Shirley was a burden, alive because of charity, and was only ever kept anywhere because she was needed, to do the hardest chores no else wanted to do, or raise children no one else wanted. There was no love, no happiness tied to the name Anne Shirley, because Anne Shirley had only ever lived in the orphanage or in service. Anne Shirley was a girl who had worked almost since the day she was born and would keep working until the day she died. She was Anne Shirley now as she lived once again at the orphanage, and she always would be it seemed, the world had decided. 

Anne Shirley Cuthbert was dead, had died along with Matthew and Marilla. Anne Shirley was the girl who remained. The girl who endured, no matter what.

“What...what happened to you?” Gilbert asked, as they halted in front of the inn. “What happened to Anne Shirley Cuthbert, the Anne I used to know?” Tears were starting to well in his eyes and he forced them down. He wouldn’t have cared if he cried in front of the old Anne, but he felt like he hardly knew who she was anymore. “What happened to Anne of sunsets and rivalries and a love of books and tragedies?”

“I decided my life was tragedy enough Gilbert.” She replied, her voice hollow, “I don’t need to go read about more. Besides, I haven’t the time to read anymore. I’ve always got more chores to do, and kids to look after.”

Gilbert grabbed her arm, not hard but with enough pressure that she finally met his eyes. 

“That’s not an answer. What really happened that turned you into...into this?” He gestured vaguely in her direction. 

“How can you not understand?” She cried, tears spilling down her cheeks, “You saw the orphanage. Everything about it, all it’s unique horrors. I grew up there, and then I went to Avonlea and I was stupid enough to let myself get comfortable, relaxed enough to finally feel safe for the first time in my miserable existence...and then I lost it. All of it. My home, my friends, my family...and then I ended up back at the orphanage and it felt like I’d never even left; except it hurt even more because I was stupid enough to let my guard down enough to let myself be truly happy. So when I was torn away, brought back, everything just hurt more. What made me this way? My heart broke. I’m lonely again, Gilbert, I’m nothing again.”

“That’s not true.” Gilbert said fiercely, tightening his grip on her arm and facing her, “it’s not true. You’re everything Anne. You’re an enigma. I was so desperate to get your attention when I first met you that I pulled your hair and called you carrots!”

Anne smiled faintly at the memory. It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

“You’re special Anne,” Gilbert continued passionately, “you’re smart and brave and funny and you took Avonlea by storm. No matter how many times you got into scrapes everyone couldn’t help but love you. Marilla and Matthew loved you more then they ever loved anything in the world and Mrs. Lynde says it to this day. She’s not the only one either. Everyone talks about you, everyone misses you, because Avonlea isn’t the same without you. You touched the lives of everyone who lives there and there’s a void you left behind when you were sent away. You’re a lot of things Anne Shirley. So many things, that you could never be even close to nothing.”

“If everyone there loved me so much,” Anne asked icily, “why did they all let me get sent back here?”

“I don’t know.” Gilbert admitted, “but I do know that a lot of people have been kicking themselves for not taking you in ever since. It’s not just your friends who miss you Anne, it’s the whole town. If you came back you’d be welcomed with open arms.”

“Why would I even want to go back?” Anne demanded, “why would I want to go back to a town that rejected me as soon as I was orphaned again? Why,” her voice dropped, “why do I want to go back to a town that doesn’t want me?”

“Because it’s your home,” Gilbert said softly, “I know Avonlea pushed you out unfairly, but I also know that it would welcome you back. Marilla and Matthew lived there their whole lives and they were there when they adopted you. Avonlea is still your home.”

“Home…” Anne mused. “It’s been so long I’ve almost forgotten its meaning. But you’re right I suppose.” Her gaze turned wistful, “as much as it hurt me I still miss it. Avonlea was so beautiful and most people...even though they were sometimes small minded at least for the most part they were kind.”

A tap on the window of the inn snapped them out of their contemplation. They jumped and Gilbert glanced guiltily at the window where Ms Stacy was waiting impatiently.

“Sorry,” Anne stepped back, shifting back into her orphanage persona, apologetic and ready to serve, “I didn’t mean to keep you. I’d better go.”

“Wait.” Gilbert cried desperately, grabbing her arm before she could un off. She flinched in his grasp and he released her immediately. 

“Wait.” He repeated softly, and took a deep breath.

“I’m going to get you out of that orphanage Anne Shirley. I promise you. I’ll find a way.”

She smiled, but it was bittersweet.

“You know Gilbert, you’re so earnest I almost believe you.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek, so quick he wasn’t quite sure that it had happened. Then, she turned on her heel and Gilbert was too shocked to go after her. By the time he returned to his senses she had disappeared into the crowd, and he was left wondering why the world had turned such an effervescent creature into such a sad and cynical woman. 

Eventually Moody came to drag him inside, but until then he stared at the place where Anne had disappeared and wondered why she had been forced to walk out of his life again, right after he’d finally managed to find her.

Anne herself returned to the orphanage more subdued than usual. For once she was grateful for a late shift in the nursery. At least tonight she wouldn’t have to put on a cheerful face for the girls, and make up an imaginative story for Miriam. She was physically and emotionally exhausted. Seeing Diana, Ms Stacy, Gilbert...it had been wonderful but at the same time it made her feel as if her heartbreak fresh. It was a curse because it made her miss Avonlea all the more, but it was a gift because she had thought she would never see any of them ever again.

She tried to push them out of her mind, her old memories mixing with the new ones she had just made, but she couldn’t seem to not focus on Diana’s sweet smile or linger on the thought of Gilbert’s captivating hazel eyes. She couldn’t help but remember they’d both promised to rescue her, and how desperately she wanted to forget that. She couldn’t afford to even ponder it, it was impossible and she knew it. It would only hurt more if she got her hopes up.

The next day Anne rose late, as she had worked until an hour past midnight in the nursery. Despite her low spirits her day went much the way it had the day before, minus a visit from the Avonlea folk. With each day that passed the sting of hurt from seeing them dulled into the familiar throb of heartache.

The month after the Avonlea school visit had been somewhat stagnant, minus a few major events. Delia had been put into service, before being swiftly returned. It had damaged her too, but differently than it had with Elise. Delia was angrier now, a little more hardened, whereas Elise was fearful and sad. Anne worried at the change in her, but Delia bounced back easier than Elise did. Within a few weeks she was back to her usual curious self.

Rafael aged out of the orphanage a month after the fateful Avonlea visit. Anne had only seen him twice since he’d left. The second time was only a visit of courtesy. He’d fallen in love, he said, and he no longer wished to marry her. His love was a woman of ill repute, she had no qualms about marrying him despite his being an orphan. Anne smiled and wished him well, telling him she was happy he had found someone who made him truly happy. They parted as friends, but the rejection stung. Not because she had loved Rafael (she hadn’t) but because now she would be trapped at least a year longer in the orphanage, and would likely end up working there as a matron for the rest of her life. After all, if Rafael wouldn’t marry her who would? She cried all night when he told her of his new plans, because it hadn’t been her dream to marry him but it had been her dream to be able to leave. Apparently even her feeble orphanage dreams were too much to hope for since they wouldn’t ever come true.

It was three months since the Avonlea class had visited before a remnant of her old life returned to her.

She was exhausted after a long night of working in the infirmary. She’d been awoken around one in the morning by one of the matrons, and had been working in the nursery ever since. Currently she was sitting on the front steps of the orphanage with two young, croupy toddlers. The early morning January air was freezing and although she was shivering and her teeth were chattering, the cold air seemed to be opening the babies lungs. They weren’t coughing so awfully anymore and Anne was confident they would live to see another day. Even still, Anne was loathe to go inside just yet, despite the cold. The early morning was as still and quiet as things ever got at the orphanage and the fresh air felt nice on her face.

“Excuse me, miss?”

It took a moment for Anne to respond, despite being the only person outside. No one had called her miss in years, the last person who had called her miss was Mr Philipson in Avonlea- and then it had been in the tone of a mocking drawl.

“Oh,” she looked up when she realized whoever it was was talking to her, “oh, sorry I did realize you were-“ she cut herself off, clearing her throat and composing herself. “Sorry, you must be mistaken. I live here, I don’t work here. Well I do, but not technically. I’m not a matron is what I’m trying to say, I’m an orphan.”

The man smiled at her as she awkwardly stumbled through her explanation. He was relatively young, mid twenties or early thirties if she had to guess, with twinkling eyes and smooth brown skin. Anne wasn’t exactly surprised to see him, the town was a working town and plenty of dark skinned people worked on the docks and ships. Oftentimes, they would send someone to take in an orphan boy or two when they lacked the number of needed stokers on a ship. However, she was surprised he had come at such an early hour; it wasn’t yet six o’clock.

“Sorry,” Anne gave her head a slight shake, and shifted the baby on her hip so she could offer a hand to the man, “I’m Anne. How can I help you?”

A spark of amusement flashed in his eyes when she gave her name, though Anne couldn’t fathom why.

“I’ll just wait here for a moment miss if that’s alright with you.” The man’s voice was tinged with a slight accent that Anne couldn’t place. It was lovely though, and part of her mused that if she still imagined things she would certainly have a few dashing heroes with an accent like his.

“Of course,” Anne was rather surprised, “you don’t have to ask in any case. I don’t own this place.”

The man grinned, showing pearly white teeth. “All the same Miss Anne, it’s only polite.”

“I suppose you’re here to get some boys to work on the ships then?” Anne inquired politely as the man took a seat beside her on the steps.

To her surprise the man laughed.

“No, miss. I used to work the ships but not anymore. I live with my brother now.”

A thought occurred to her and it was so obvious and yet absurd that Anne almost laughed. Instead she asked another question that would solidify her suspicions. 

“Your name wouldn’t happen to be Bash would it?”

He laughed, and just like that Anne’s suspicions were confirmed. “That it is,”

“Why is Gilbert here?” She asked flatly, “why are you here?”

“Well, I suppose you could say I’m here for moral support. Gilbert on the other hand-“

Bash was cut off when the door banged open. 

“Shirley!” The head matron barked.

“Yes ma’am?” Anne struggled to her feet.

“Matron Sally’s just quit, I need you to take her place in the kitchen.”

“Yes ma’am.” Anne bobbed her head in acknowledgement, shooting an apologetic look at Bash over her shoulder. He was the kindest person she’d met in quite a while, and he didn’t seem to pity her or view her with revulsion. She was sorry their chat had been cut short.

Bash watched her leave, his brow creasing with worry. If that was Gilbert’s Anne he could certainly see why Gilbert had been so adamant about coming to get her. The girl couldn’t have been more than fifteen yet she seemed much older. Her face was gaunt and she looked exhausted, dark circles like bruises around her eyes. How long had she been awake? It was the crack of dawn and she was already up and dressed, and clearly had been for a while.

The matron glared at him coldly. “What business do you have here?” 

He was saved from having to answer when Gilbert appeared from around the corner.

“He’s with me.”

The matrons hard look didn’t waver an iota as she turned her gaze on the dark haired teen.

“And what business do you have here young man?”

“We’re here looking for someone. Anne Shirley?”

The matron let out a long suffering sigh. “Follow me then.”

The two men followed the Matron through the orphanage. It wasn’t yet quite as bustling as it had been the last time Gilbert had been there, and the racket coming from the direction of the dining hall told him the orphans were at breakfast. Even still, they passed a few kids as the followed the matron through the halls. Two grim looking preteens stepped aside to let them pass, and a girl hurried around a corner with a stack of clothes in her arms, her skirt swishing behind her.

“Now,” The matron said, as she led them into her tiny office and shut the door with a snap, “why exactly are you here?”

“We’re here looking for a girl, to help out at the farm with us, during the harvest.”

“Wouldn’t a boy be more suited to farm work?” The matron asked, raising an eyebrow.

Despite her imposing presence Gilbert didn’t waver.

“It’s not that we need her to work on the farm with us, so much as we need her to help look after the house.”

“My wife is sick,” Bash spoke up, “and I’ve a little one who needs looking after.”

“I see.” The matron said, “in that case you’ll be looking for a girl between the ages of eight and fifteen?”

“Actually I’m looking for someone in particular,” Gilbert ploughed on. He had come here to rescue Anne so that is what he would do! “Anne Shirley.”

“Shirley?” The matron asked, seeming surprised and slightly disgruntled, “well I can’t fault your judgement there. She used to be a terribly flighty thing but she’s a hard worker now and meek as a mouse. Be a shame to see her go. I’ll go fetch her.”

“Your Anne is the one with red hair and freckles yes?” Bash asked when the matron had left.

“Of course,” Gilbert confirmed, annoyed, “I’ve told you that already. Besides, you’ll have a chance to meet her in a moment.”

“Ah no need, I met her already this morning.”

“What? When?” Gilbert asked, shooting up in his seat.

“When you were tying up the horse. Seemed like a real sweet girl, was nothing but polite.”

“She’s different than she used to be,” Gilbert said, and even he could hear the wistfulness in his voice. “She used to be a lot less...downtrodden.”

“She’s young,” Bash said sagely, “she’ll bounce back once she’s back in Avonlea Blythe, don’t you worry.”

In truth Bash and Gilbert had come to get Anne as a rescue mission. Really, Mary could handle the house work herself, and her illness was nothing lasting, nor serious. However, Anne would be a help around the house and with baby Dellie, who seemed inclined towards sleeping during the day and subsequently being awake all night. 

The door clicked open then and the Matron strode inside with a nervous Anne in tow, whose hands were twisting her apron nervously.

“Gilbert? What’s going on?”

“These two are looking to take you in Anne. They need you to look after the house while they’re farming.” The matron told her carelessly.

“I see.” Anne said softly, giving Gilbert a look that clearly said she knew exactly what he was doing.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” She demanded, “Alone?”

“Five minutes tops,” the matron said, seemingly bored, “I need to know whether you’re leaving or not Shirley.”

Anne grabbed Gilbert’s hand and dragged him out of the office, down the hallway, and around a few corners before stopping. He couldn’t help but feel a thrill go through him at the feeling of her hand in his.

When she deemed them far enough from the matron's office she faced him and released his hand. 

Despite the serious look on her face and her obvious exhaustion, Gilbert couldn’t help but be distracted by how pretty she was. She was wearing the same skirt and worn apron as she had three months ago but today her hair was done in a pinned up tumble of curls, with two tendrils framing her face.

She took a deep breath, her hands once again twisting her apron, the nervous tick apparent even now.

“I need a favour from you.”

“Anything” He agreed immediately, the way she knew he would. 

Anne took a deep breath. “Don’t take me.”

“What?” He looked shocked. “Don’t you want to get out of here?”

“Of course I do, but please,” Anne begged, “don't take me. Things are different now, I’m not a little girl like I was last time. I...well I have three little girls I look after. Miriam, Delia and Elise. I love them like...well it’s hard to explain. In a sisterly way I suppose but also sort of maternally. Please, I’m begging you, for my sake, take one of them instead. I’ll be out of here in a year or two- they won’t. They’re all sweet little things and hard workers. It would mean the world to me if they could grow up in Avonlea instead of here. Please Gilbert, I want them to have a chance more than I want to leave here. Please, if you care about me at all you’ll do this for me.”

Gilbert looked around the cramped, dim, place around him. The walls seemed oppressive, the kids looked hopeless and shouts and slaps rang out all around. This wasn’t a place where the vivacious schoolgirl he’d met in Avonlea should have to live. It certainly wasn’t a place she should be resigned too. The girl herself looked awful. Her skin had always been pale but now it looked ghostly. Her hair was lank and dull, lacking it’s usual lustre. Her dress was too small, old and ugly, her movements were stiff, and her hands twitched anxiously. She coughed, the illness he had feared three months ago showing early warning signs. Anne didn’t meet his eyes, and she didn’t chatter the way she used too. Her demeanour was sad and wistful as if the weight of the world had crushed her. He’d come here to save this girl, a girl he’d never forgotten and never quite gotten over. He’d never met anyone else like her. But she was different now, and he was worried that she’d never be the same, and she was begging him not to rescue her, to save someone else in her place. At least that hadn’t changed. She was still a hero, still loved others far more than she loved herself.

“Anne…” he didn’t want to agree. For once he wanted her to put herself first. To let herself be cherished and cared about and looked after. 

Just then a figure bounded down the hallway, a bruise on her cheek but a smile across her face. 

“Anne looky!” She cried, holding up a worn out book. “I did the best in reading and one of the visiting nuns gave me this! A whole book all for me! She said I reminded her of one of her friends. Will you read it to me tonight Anne?”

“Sure darling.” Anne laughed as she scooped the little girl up and twirled her around. The little girl giggled sweetly. She couldn’t have been more than nine, Gilbert noticed, and she was far too skinny, the way all the orphans he’d seen were. The bruise on her face worried him as well as enraged him. He hated anyone who’d dare strike a child!

Anne stopped twirling her and set the little girl down gently. She gasped a little and shrunk into Anne when she first saw him, regarding him with wide, awestruck green eyes.

“He looks like a prince!” The little girl whispered loudly to Anne. “Like the ones from your stories.”

Anne’s face went a little pink. 

“That’s because he is.” She whispered back. “A real life prince. Prince Gilbert. He’s from the kingdom of Avonlea remember? I told you all about it.”

Gilbert smiled fondly. Only Anne would turn him into a prince and Avonlea into a fairytale for a bedtime story. 

Anne gave him a look, an arm wrapped around the little girl and an understanding passed between them. She was right, he realized, just like she always was. The bright eyed little girl was sweet and brimming with life, the same kind of life that Anne used to be full of. Looking at Anne, at who she’d become, he knew he’d do as she asked. He knew that the green eyed little girl would be the one he took back home to Avonlea. Anne saw this in his eyes, and a bit of sparkle showed in her blue ones. Her look was significant, displaying nothing but her gratitude.

“Maybe I won’t need to read it to you tonight.” Anne told the little girl. “Maybe you can go to Avonlea with Prince Gilbert and he can read it to you.”

“Really?” The little girl lit up even more, if that was possible. 

“If Gilbert agrees.” Anne said, smoothing the little girl’s skirt, “and I think you should at least introduce yourself, don’t you?”

The little girl cleared her throat and offered a tiny, rough, soap cracked hand for Gilbert to shake. He did so gingerly. She seemed very breakable, but then Anne had too when she’d first arrived in Avonlea. 

“I’m Miriam Delacourt.” The little brunette announced. “I’m eight years old, I can do chores very well, I can look after babies, and I can read!”

“Well Miriam,” Gilbert said, flashing a smile at her and a mournful glance at Anne, who watched him gratefully, “How would you like to come to Avonlea with me?”

“I would like that very much.” She informed him solemnly.

“Why don’t you go pack your things then?” Anne suggested, smiling, but her eyes were very sad. Still, she was beyond grateful that Gilbert, Bash, and Mary would take Miriam in, even though she would miss the girl very much. At least in the Blythe household she would have a chance to stay a child a little bit longer. “I’ll go tell the matron you’ll be going with them.”

“Alright.” Miriam chirped, exuberance written all over her face and excitement in her step as she dashed down the hallway.

“Thank you Gilbert,” Anne said as she led him back towards the matron's office, “I’m forever in your debt for this.”

“No you’re not,” he argued, “how can you even say that? I told you I’d figure out a way to get you out of here and instead-“

“-Instead you’re saving one of the girls I love like my own kin. You’re doing more for my peace of mind by agreeing to look after Miriam than if I’d actually gone with you.”

“I’m sorry I can’t take you too,” he lamented, “and your other girls and, well, all the kids here...but we’ve only got one extra room at the house.”

“Really Gilbert,” Anne said, with a wan smile that was becoming scarily familiar to him, laying a comforting hand on his arm, “this is the best thing you could have done for me. I’ll be ok. Really.”

They’d reached the matron's office, and the spark of warmth he’d seen in Anne vanished as she stepped through the doorway. Her tired, grim expression returned, and her hands returned to their habit of nervously twisting her apron.

“Well Ms Shirley, what’ll it be? I’ve other business to attend to and other people to see.”

“I’m not going,” Anne informed her, “Mr Blythe here has decided to take in Miriam Delacourt in my place.”

“Hmm, she’s a spirited little thing and not very strong. Eager enough I suppose but that could mean trouble and she’s not half the hand you are with children Shirley.” The matron mused. “I urge you to reconsider Mr Blythe. Shirley’s a better worker in any case.”

“Thank you, but I’ve made up my mind.” Gilbert said, politely but firmly. Bash looked at both him and Anne incredulously from where he was sitting. Anne looked stoic and calm, her eyes wide in her pale face and glimmering with unshed tears. Gilbert hid it well, by Bash could tell he was pained.

“Very well,” The matron sighed, irritation written all over her face, “does she know she’ll be leaving?”

“Yes ma'am, she’s already packing.”

“Go fetch her then Miss Shirley, and return to your chores.”

“Yes ma’am.” Anne hurried from the office, her pace brisk and heart heavy.

Once she was around the corner she paused for a second, and took a deep shuddering breath, scrubbing the tears from her eyes impatiently. She wouldn’t ruin today for Miriam, despite the fact that she was absolutely miserable at the thought of losing her. She loved Miriam enough to let her go, to let her have a chance at the same happiness she herself had once found in Avonlea.

She sniffed, wiped her eyes one more time and schooled her face into a neutral expression. She was good at hiding her emotions by now and it had been years since she’d slipped up like this. If anyone saw her cry it might prompt her to be ridiculed and teased again and she’d die before she’d let her life go back to that.

She squared her shoulders, checked the pins in her hair and resolved to face the day with her best foot forward, despite her crushing exhaustion and fresh heartbreak at the thought of Miriam leaving.

“Almost ready?” Anne asked, winding her way through the dormitory to Miriam’s bunk, where the girl was excitedly shoving her spare dress and toiletries into a worn out handbag.

“Yes,” Miriam smiled, “

This time when Gilbert left Anne didn’t have the opportunity for so much as a goodbye, no quick kiss on the cheek or hurried embrace. When Gilbert left, accompanied by Bash and Miriam on the ferry back to Prince Edward Island, Anne was already hidden away in the nursery. 

In the end, Gilbert wasn’t the one who saved her from the orphanage. Neither was Rafael. In the end, with a bit of help from Aunt Jo and Diana, Anne saved herself. 

Apparently Diana had kept good on her promise to find a way to free Anne from the orphanage. Anne was surprised to say the least, but she wasn’t sure why. Diana Barry was the most loyal friend in the world and ten times smarter than anyone gave her credit for. For some reason no one noticed the dark haired girl's sharp mind when her pretty face was on display. A pity, Anne thought, that they were too narrow minded to appreciate Diana’s intellect, and instead only praised her for her looks. It was their loss in any case. 

Diana had somehow gotten word of Anne’s whereabouts to Aunt Jo, and the formidable woman had showed up in an ornate carriage one day in early February, accompanied by her young ward Cole, whom Anne hadn’t seen in years.

At the time Anne was already outside, helping fill pails and tubs with snow for the younger children’s bath night. She turned at the sound of someone calling her name and was nearly bowled over by Cole’s enthusiastic hug. 

He had changed too, just as she had in the years she’d been gone, but he had changed for the better. He was taller, a true man now rather than a boy child, but it was more than that. He seemed happier, more grounded. His tailored suit suited him far better than his farming clothes ever had. City life had been good to him. 

“Anne!” He was excited and she greeted him in the same fashion she had greeted Diana. Of course, he also noticed her unhealthy pallor, her obvious malnourishment and change in demeanour but unlike Diana he didn’t comment on it, which Anne appreciated.

“Anne Shirley it’s been far too long.”

Anne smiled but didn’t move to hug the old lady, despite being overjoyed to see her. Her clothes were filthy and she didn’t want to ruin Aunt Jo’s fine silk skirts.

Of course, Aunt Jo being who she was, wouldn’t have that and pulled Anne into a hug anyway.

“It’s wonderful to see you both.” Anne smiled softly, “What are you doing here?” 

“We’re here to bring you back to Charlottetown with us of course.” Cole piped up in a tone that said he thought that was obvious.

The matron was understandably impressed with Aunt Jo and Cole, with how well they dressed and the fact they were so clearly wealthy. Once again Anne pleaded with her old friends on her girls behalf. Aunt Jo was having none of it.

“Nonsense Anne,” the matriarch had said after hearing Anne’s protests, “we’ll not leave you behind. I’ve the money and the room to take in a few more kids if they really mean that much to you.”

So that was how Anne ended up leaving the orphanage, seated in a carriage in between Aunt Jo and Cole, with Delia, Elise and Malcolm across from her. (Elise had refused to leave without Malcolm and Aunt Jo had insisted on bringing him along too.)

Aunt Jo helped her out in her new life in Charlottetown, her second chance at a life away from the orphanage. It was her second chance to get away from there and she knew that now she was old enough that if Aunt Jo died unexpectedly like the Cuthberts had, she wouldn’t be sent back. For her broken heart that was an almost soothing balm.

Aunt Jo called in a few favours and it seemed Anne’s late night studying at the orphanage wasn’t for nothing because she managed to wrangle up a passing grade and earn herself a third grade teacher’s certificate. It prohibited her from teaching older students but she was qualified enough to teach the little ones. She started immediately, teaching the younger class at the two room schoolhouse in Charlottetown, who had been without a teacher for the better part of a year. Her pupils took to her immediately, and studied diligently under Anne’s gentle tutelage.

Delia blossomed like a flower under life in the city, going to art shows and concerts with Cole, with whom she had quickly bonded. The others had more trouble adjusting to life outside the orphanage. Both Anne and Elise spent much of their time doing chores such as cooking and cleaning, despite Aunt Jo insisting that it wasn’t their job. The old woman tried to interest the girls in books and visits with some of her friends, but Anne always said she was busy with her teaching duties and lesson plans and Elise was far too timid and wary to do anything with Aunt Jo without either Anne, Delia or Malcolm being present also. Malcolm too seemed unable to forget the lessons drilled into him at the orphanage. Despite his gifts of new clothes and offers of schooling from Aunt Jo, Malcolm spent much of his time doing hard labour outdoors and his evenings going on walks with Elise.

The children’s hesitance to warm up to her didn’t bother Aunt Jo, who had expected it. She had seen flashes of the same hesitance before when she had first met Anne. The change in the older girl worried her however. The orphanage had done quite a number on her adventurous spirit, and Aunt Jo decided that was just unacceptable. 

Slowly but surely, with help from her beloved butler Rollings and her darling boy Cole, the formidable Josephine won back Anne’s trust. Then, with Anne’s help she won over Elise and Malcolm. 

Winter that year was the happiest it had ever been for Delia, Elise, and Malcolm, filled with warmth, friendship, and happiness. Anne loved her students, her girls and Malcolm, and her life in with Aunt Jo and Cole. She spent her time doing her best to heal, spending time with Aunt Jo, going to art galleries to see the few paintings of Cole’s that he had sold, and playing with Delia, Elise, and Malcolm making up for the childhood they had all missed out on. However, come June and the end of the school term Anne began to feel she was overstaying her welcome. Or rather, she felt it was time for her to return home.

“I understand,’ Aunt Jo told her when she confessed how she felt, holding Anne’s always cold hands in her warm, weathered ones “a home is more than a place, it is a feeling and sometimes it is a person. I haven’t been at home since my Gerturude passed. Now listen my dear, I know you are feeling guilty now, and you mustn’t feel that way. I know you are not ungrateful, but I also know this house will never be your home. If you feel you must return to Avonlea, then that is what you will do.”

Anne nodded, the beginnings of tears beginning to fill her eyes, “Please don’t think I haven’t loved the time I’ve spent with you and Cole, I just…”

“I know.” Aunt Jo said, and Anne felt that she did in fact, know. “I will miss you Anne, but know that you are always welcome here.”

Anne nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and Aunt Jo pulled her into a hug.

Within a week the plans were set. With Aunt Jo’s connections and friends in high places she’d managed to make it so Anne could return to Green Gables, and stay there until she turned eighteen. When she turned eighteen the ownership would officially pass to her, as Marilla and Matthew had intended in their wills. Anne would go a few days in advance, and Malcolm and Elise would follow a few days later. Delia decided to remain in the city with Aunt Jo and Cole.

A week later Anne was staring out the window of the same train that had first brought her to Avonlea all those years ago, the familiar countryside flashing by. Elise and Malcolm would be arriving in a few days. She’d told them it was so that she’d have a chance to get the house in order. In truth that was only half of it. She needed a chance to see the house she had loved, a chance to visit Matthew and Marilla’s graves alone, before she could truly restart her life in Avonlea.

The platform was the same as she remembered, worn, rickety and not very busy at all. She smiled as she passed the bench where she had once waited for Matthew. How young she had been then! How so full of life, and hope!

Her steps seemed to echo the further she walked into the station. She felt like a ghost, walking through the past. She could almost see the girl she’d been then: bright, vivacious, and a little bit odd, in a too short, too small orphanage dress that at times she’d convinced herself was a ballgown. 

Though now she wore the fine clothes gifted to her from Aunt Jo (a fine green silk skirt and while lace blouse), and had spent years being crushed and heartbroken in the orphanage after the Cuthbert’s death’s, there was a part of her that still felt like that excited little orphan girl in that awful dress. Anne wondered if she’d ever stop feeling a little bit like that.

This time instead of being greeted by a kind, albeit confused old man, Anne was greeted by no one save the man at the ticket counter. She recognized him as the same ticket counter she’d met the first time she went to Green Gables, she counted herself grateful that he didn’t seem to remember her.

This time she hired a buggy to drive her to Avonlea, instead of riding there in the Cuthbert’s wagon. The boy who drove her seemed familiar too, although she wasn't quite sure why. 

Finally, they arrived at the main street in Avonlea. She smiled and offered her thanks to the boy who’d driven her, as well as his payment. He tipped his hat with a smile and drove off. Stares followed her, as did whispers as she walked along. The further into the small town she got, the more people she recognized. Despite their scrutiny Anne channeled her twelve year old self and held her head high. 

He met her when she reached the avenue she’d once dubbed the White Way of Delight. She didn’t know whether to cry or to laugh when she saw him, so she settled for stopping in her tracks instead. She hadn’t planned on telling him she was coming back, and she wasn’t quite sure how he knew she’d be here. She suspected Cole had had something to do with it, he’d always been one of her most meddlesome friends.

“Gilbert.” she breathed.

“Anne.”

He seemed to be as wonderstruck as she was.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” She confessed.

“Neither did I.” He teased gently, his steady gaze taking her all in. She did the same. Gilbert Blythe that had always had an effect on her. That still hadn’t changed, even though they’d both changed so much.

“How’s Miriam been?” She asked, thinking of the youngest of her girl’s.

“Wonderful. Bash and Mary adore her- as do I. She’ll be ecstatic when she finds out you’re here.”  
“You didn’t tell her I was coming?”

“I wasn’t sure you would.” Gilbert confessed, “I didn’t want to get her hopes up, just in case.”

Anne nodded in acknowledgement. That made sense.

Gilbert offered a hand. “May I walk you home?”

He held out a hand in invitation. His voice was soft when he asked, laced with too many emotions to count.

Anne couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed her face.

“Yes.”

Home. She hadn’t been there in a while, wasn’t even sure she still had one. But being with Gilbert? Well, he felt like the closest thing to a home she could remember. 

She slipped her hand into his. His fingers wrapped around hers, the gentle pressure was reassuring, saying so much more than words ever could.

When she looked up at the faded paint of Green Gables, Gilbert’s hand soft and steady in her’s, she finally felt it.

She was home. For good this time.


End file.
